


Arcadian Inquisition

by BaelPenrose



Category: Original Work, post apocalyptic - Fandom
Genre: Ew, Forced Sterilization, Found Family, I really want to emphasize that those are NOT witnessed at any point, Multi, No Smut, Originally Posted to Tumblr, Other, Platonic Hurt/Comfort, Religion, Religious Fanaticism, Solarpunk, actually the rape tag is from shit you find out happened, because I have no desire to actually portray that happening, because no, but still nothing yous ee, ecopaganism, emotionally repressed lead, it's better than it sounds, of more than one viewpoint, okay in light of new chapter, post apoc, semi-soft apocalypse, social darwinist bad guys, strong implication of genocide, the rape and underage tags are from shit that's implied nothing you actually see, traumatized characters, unsubtle political criticism in several places
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 59
Words: 129,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaelPenrose/pseuds/BaelPenrose
Summary: After the Calamity of Climate, a nation calling itself Arcadia has arisen on what was once the west coast of the united states. Dedicated in theory to democracy and rule of law, it also has strong theocratic leanings - a single, powerful religion, worship of Gaia, the Earth, has replaced the religions we know today, an elaborate gambit by the founders of Arcadia to ensure the mistakes of the past are never repeated. Arcadia is recovering, rapidly, from a protracted war with a predatory social darwinist neighbor.Our story follows Ash Roanoake, a veteran of the Arcadian Guard and that war, and his work as an Adept of the Druidic Circle of Inquisition, as well as the story of River Damien - a refugee, pulled out of the smoking ashes of the enemy state, and now attempting to become an Inquisitor of Gaia in her own right. She reckons with past sins - and is drawn to a power struggle within the Inquisition, alongside her mysterious mentor, who seems to follow an interpretation of the Gaian religion entirely his own.
Kudos: 2





	1. Riding the Roads

Riding through the forests of southern Arcadia during spring is always a pleasure. The birds sing, the mist breaks under the trees, and you feel like you’re stepping into another world. As my horse ran beneath me, every thundering impact of his hooves rattling the old war wounds in my hips from my youth, I smiled a bit at the pain. The ride was beautiful, and the day was long. What kind of maniac would ever give up this job for work as a weaver, scrap processor, farmer, potter, smith, builder?

I was bound for Bay Hills, where I had been told to deliver the message of the Ecological Circle to the local Stewards, who wanted to construct delta mounds and needed proper authorization from the Circle to make sure it would not blaspheme against Gaia’s grace. My horse was tired, and the sun was starting to go down so I dismounted the poor thing and walked alongside it. Quincy was a good horse, bred for running. I stroked her gently and drew an apple out of the saddlebags to let her eat out of my hand as we walked a little farther down the road to a copse of trees that looked like a good place to stop. Decent concealment from the road, but a clear view out, easy to hide in…and best of all, shelter from the ripping winds that were known to kick up at night this time of year in this area.

I let Quincy graze for a bit, and led her to the stream on my map so she could drink – taking a quick swig from my own canteen in the process, and taking a bite of the hog jerky that had been prepared for me before this trip – before finding a decent tree to hitch her too and laying out my bedroll. Before I slept, I offered a quick prayer of thanks for the safe journey, and then took a moment to breathe in and meditate on the copse around me. The gentle wind in my hair, the soft earth beneath my wounded hip…I took a moment to dig the three fingers remaining on my left hand into that clay, to appreciate what I still had and the world I still walked. Leaning my weapons against a tree, I laid down and closed my eyes, slowly, listening to the music of the night life around me.  
***  
The next day, I rose a little after the sun. My hip ached a bit in the cold where that sword had bitten to the bone during the Randaynan Crusade, but that was unsurprising, it always did when I slept in the open this time of year. I unhitched Quincy from the tree and let her graze for a moment before stepping back into the saddle and letting her trot a little further down the old dirt roads of the foothills in the area. It wasn’t long before we came to the outskirts of Bay Hills, where a handful of patrolling members of the Guard held up hands as I reigned in. I dismounted again, so as not to be looking down on them, and held my good hand up. I knew the questions they were about to ask, so I pre-empted. “My name is Ash. I’m here with a message for the regional Stewards?”

The leader of the soldiers nodded. “From who?”

“The Druids of the Ecology Circle.”

“Right. Credentials? Keep your good hand where I can see it. I know some of you road types carry things under the jacket.” I smiled a bit, and complied. It was hilarious to me that they thought any holdout I had wouldn’t be designed with three-fingered use in mind – in fact, the holdout knife I had was specifically balanced for that – but these Guardsmen were doing their duty – and against anyone else, it would actually have been a smart move, but you don’t last as long as I have in this job if you don’t learn to adapt – even lean into other people’s underestimation when it’s convenient.

With my left hand I drew out my badge of office. The painstakingly carved and painted oaken replication of the Eyes of the Earth, the little device that marked me as a member of the Inquisition. Sometimes referred to as the Ravens for the fact that our travel leathers were traditionally black, though mine were faded enough to be grey. The soldiers lowered their weapons and saluted sharply, fists striking the chain and leather that they wore. “Apologies, sir. We meant no disrespect.”

Poisoned Sky, this shit? Apparently the last Inquisitor they’d met forgot that the job was about service to the people of Arcadia and to Gaia herself, not about making others pander to you. “Relax, soldier. You did your duty, what offense could that be? It’s exactly what you should do.” I flicked the flat-hilted knife from my sleeve and twirled it lightly. “Just for future reference though, disability doesn’t make someone less dangerous. In a close fight, my left hand is the one you need to watch out for.” The sergeant who’d spoken grinned and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh and cut that. I’m not a “sir.” Just a man with a sword, a badge, and a horse. Just call me Ash.” The soldier saluted again.

“Alright then, Ash. If you’re wondering, you’re only about a klick from the gates. Turn right from there to get to the stables so you can let your horse relax and get a bike for the city itself.”

“Understood, sergeant. Thank you.” I saddled back up, smiling slightly. Only a klick? I’d made better time than I thought. Spirits high from the little encounter – I’d heard troubling rumors of bandits attacking in the area, so the local soldiery being well drilled and disciplined as they had been meant the farms and fisheries of the area were safe.

The road took me about as far as I thought, and I turned right when I saw the gates, I slowed Quincy’s pace to a gentle trot and let her slowly approach the stables before I dismounted. A few stable-hands approached and I pulled a few coins out of my pocket. “This going to cover letting her stay here for a day, getting me a decent bike for the city itself?”

“Sure. Guard already cleared you, right?” I nodded, and the guy asked, “So off the record, what’s a Raven doing here?” I chuckled.

“Off the record or on it doesn’t make much difference. Nothing exciting today. I’m just delivering a message to the local Stewards’ Guild about a project they wrote to the Circle a few months back. And since there’s a few too many hawks out to trust messenger birds at the moment, they sent me.”

The stable boy chuckled and held out a hand that I shook. “Glad to hear it! I was scared as Storms for a minute that we had some heresy going on here or something, but we’ve got a good understanding of the sacred things in the world here.”

“No, you all seem to.

Yeah, the last Raven they’d seen had definitely been the kind of ass to throw their weight around. Probably some fucking rookie who didn’t think that the perks of getting to travel Gaia’s beautiful world were enough to keep the job of an Inquisitor exciting.

Heh. I was starting to sound like old Willow in my head. She’d had to slap me more than a few times before I got the point of the job too. What had the last visitor’s mentor been doing? Oh Storms, that’s right, I was going to be up for a mentorship role myself in less than a year. Putting aside that terrifying thought, I focused my mind on the job. Just a freaking delivery.

The bike made traveling the still-maintained paved roads within the cities quicker, and looking around I saw the people selling their wares, the people selling meat, what few fish had managed to come back after the ice caps had melted, and the vegetables and fruit they’d grown in the outskirts. The craftsmen offered their wares – jewelry, horseshoes, knives, tools, jackets, pants, shirts, tack for horses – my own gear was already fine. Well, wait. My protective jacket was actually a little ragged at the shoulder, so I paid one leatherworker to repair it while I went on to deliver my message.

The Stewards’ hall, where the local governors were, was not overly decorative. It was simple, well-constructed, with solar panels studding the ceiling. The Stewards Hall was upstairs of the library, which, as per usual for cities, possessed among the very few computers in the area. I passed the librarian, who didn’t actually glance up from the books she was working with as I passed. Then she did a double-take as she caught sight of the faded-black I was wearing. “Why is there a Raven in the library?”

I chuckle, relieved. The confrontational tone indicates that she isn’t cowed by the credentials. “Just passing through to get to the Stewards, ma’am. If I was here to check in and search for heretical texts, I’d have showed you my badge first.” She nodded. 

I hurried up the stairs and handed over the package, flashing my oaken badge to the guards outside the door, and slipped inside. “Gentlemen, ladies, you’ll be pleased to know that the Circle of Ecology has approved your delta project. It’s been found to do no harm and advance the conditions of both Arcadia and the world.”

The Stewards nodded and turned back to their meeting, clearly signaling that I had done my job. I walked back down to the library, sitting down and glancing around. A few copies of sacred texts, a few children’s books about adventure, a few dozen volumes from before the Calamity, now restored, both fiction and nonfiction, and some texts on history, economics, politics…oh, they had a copy of _Citadel_ , and one of _Iteration 122_. I’d loved those books as a kid. The people of the Old World might have been a bunch of industrial barbarians but they’d had some good writers amongst them. I looked up as I heard the footsteps of the librarian, who had approached me while I’d been reading.

“Inquisitor Ash, sir?”

“Just Ash.”

“Right. I actually was sorting through some crates of old books that were recently recovered from an old site that have managed to be more or less undamaged. There’s a few I’ve never seen before, and it’d probably be better if the Inquisition looked them over before I restore them.” I grunted and stood up, my hip twinging a little as I did, and followed her. I didn’t think it was necessary, in all likelihood there were just a few she hadn’t seen before.

Most of the books she wanted me to look at were fine, a few of them I knew referenced Unsubstantiated Deities, but then that wasn’t illicit, in fact, it was frequently the entry point to a child asking a priestess what “God” or “Allah” were, and having the consistent parts of the doctrines of those dead faiths explained. Communicating that people had always known of the importance of love and Gaia, but had been distracted by other things like money or foolish interpretation of Unsubstantiated Deities regarding women or queer people, was part of the good grounding of the Gaian faith. Sufficiently curious children often went on to become Inquisitors, Stewards or Druids in their own right, and that was always something to encourage. There was one text that made the stumps of my fingers itch to look at, one I’d seen before, during the Crusade. I picked it up, disgusted.

I indicated the books with the references to dead religions as such, noting that kids who read on them and had questions were advised to speak to the local Druids of the Circles of Faith and Education. The others I fully approved – in truth, most of the books here were ones I knew of or had seen before in other libraries – this library was just in a more back-country region. I waved the banned text with my damaged hand. “This one’s heretical. It’s an allegorical story illustrating the ethos of the Randaynan barbarians, and glorifying disdain for the vulnerable.”

“Alright then. I didn’t know that they had much literary tradition.”

I sneered, for once leaning into the stereotypical arrogance of the Inquisition to emphasize the vileness of those heartless pricks. “They don’t. They scavenged ideas from before the Calamity, and through either stupidity, greed or malice adopted the ideals that led to it. This is by an author who lived over three hundred years ago who wrote to glorify greed as a natural human instinct.”

The librarian’s face twisted in the proper horror and leaned away from it. “Thank you for informing me. Did that author ever have a change of heart and embrace the earth, or should I just…”

“If you come into possession of any other works by that author, you are well advised to send a message to the Inquisition and have them dealt with. Nothing that one wrote is not heretical.” I glanced back at her. “Oh, and the same goes for anything by John Norman, though that’s for entirely different reasons.”

Leaving the library, I recollected my protective jacket and shrugged it back on, checking to ensure that nothing had been removed. I tipped the leather-tailor and looked for an inn. It had been some time since I’d last been to Bay Hills, but I knew a good one not far from here. It had the advantage of being run by a friend of mine from my Guard days. I walked into the Otters’ Den, and greeted the old man behind the bar. “Abe, it’s good to see you.” The other man had been in charge of the company from around here that my squad had been folded into after the ambush where I’d lost my fingers.

The man got out from behind the bar, the soft-light bulbs in the room taking years off his battle-scarred face and throwing some strange shadows out around the eyepatch where an arrow had grazed his retina. Without a surgeon nearby, it had been lost. I knew that under his tunic there were more than a few long, ropey scars that had come from enemy swords. “Good to see you again, Ash.” We embraced, my arms wrapping around him, each of us squeezing hard enough to send pain to the stumps of my fingers.

“Still single, Abe?” When we’d been serving together, the man could not go ten minutes without trying to seduce something. Abe sighed and smiled ruefully, showing me the ring on his right hand. “Nope. Got married. A man and a woman. Finally settled down. What about you, Ash? You ever figure out your sexuality?”

I had been fairly angsty about that back during the war. He’d told me it was alright to take my time. “Yeah. Aro/ace.” He blinked. Don’t get me wrong, he was inclusive, and he respected other people’s conclusions, but I think the sexuality I had discovered myself to possess was entirely beyond his perpetually-horny comprehension. He nodded, looking vaguely satisfied.

“Fair enough. So you’re an Inquisitor, now, what’s that like? Lot of lonely days, I’d think.”

He wasn’t wrong there. It was lonely often, glorious as it was to wander Gaia’s world. “Aye. But a horse, the roads, the ability to see so much of this beautiful world our goddess has given us…it’s a good life. Exciting at times, boring at others. I suspect it’s like most jobs, but with more travel.”

“Heh. Alright. You need a room?” I nodded, once, and held out a coin. He waved it away. “Hey, not from you. Take the one upstairs. Sleep well, okay?”

I nodded, pondering my own doubts about that. But I walked up the stairs and thanked him for his hospitality.


	2. Bad Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't finish a tour of duty without regrets - especially one in Arcadia's Vietnam. Ash is still haunted by the events of that war

I uttered a quiet prayer to Gaia for an easy rest before the ride back north tomorrow. “Thank you, Earth Mother, for your bounty and the soft earth upon which I rest, and the firm stone and timber I rest beneath. Thank you for the bounty I taste, and the air I breathe, and the world I may roam. May you keep me and make more of the same when I finally embrace you once more.”

I lay on the bed and rested, knowing the date and hoping that the anniversary of that day wouldn’t bring the nightmares. I was obviously wrong.

**  
The dirt roads of the town we’d been sent to were slick with ankle-deep muck, making it harder to avoid the arrows being fired on us from the windows of the houses, glancing off the shields we were holding. A small group of Randaynan soldiers attempted to slosh towards us, but our crossbow unit brought their weapons to bear under the shields of the rest of us and fired a single, devastating volley, allowing or awkward testudo to trudge over and dispatch them with the swords. We began smashing open the doors with axes to search the houses, searching for things we knew we’d find. I saw a small group, two young men – boys really – jabbing at us with old spears and knives and we’d cut them both down, even though one of them had pinked the biceps of my shield arm.

The scene shifted and it was another battle on that horrid hill where so much had gone wrong. The arrows were hissing down and we’d stumbled before finally closing with them over the corpses of our brothers and sisters and under a hail of archer fire, finally closing with the hated barbarians and driving them from the battlefield, the slaughter we’d engaged in under the cold-eyed order Abe had given, he hadn’t been quite the same after….

***  
A storm cracked the sky above our position, where we tried to shield our camp. A sword bit to the bone in my hip, sending streaks of molten pain burning up and down the entire left side of my body, and I shoved my sword behind the shoulder blade of the man who’d struck me, exposing the fingers on my shield hand, which he’d promptly hacked at….

***

Scarred over, even now, we walked cold and hard under clear skies, sun and earth watching our butchers’ work as we heard the order repeated over and over: Destroy the barbarians, for they have committed blasphemy beyond count and must be annihilated.

I was screaming, the enemy indistinct and screaming louder than they ever had in life. A young girl bottle blonde hair and frightened blue eyes stared at Abe and I as we dragged a middle-aged couple out of their beds and hacked them to death, all for crimes they’d committed, crimes the girl had been victim of, her and her brother, who was shoving her away from the fight while keeping his eyes fixed on it. The woman had stared at me until the moment I’d shoved my knife through one of her shocking green eyes.

***

The shield-locked advance at fountainhead, when we’d taken the lances and herded them in before slaughtering them. We’d recovered some of the bodies from the mound afterwards, determined they’d died of suffocation or pressure without a lance ever touching them. It had been butcher’s work, but the Crusade wasn’t halted. The enemy had been destroyed repeatedly before…

***  
The ambush came, when we’d over-extended our lines and their drawn and bowed lines had suddenly snapped shut around our vanguard and slaughtered them wholesale before beginning their counterstrike on the rear guard, where the wounded were, driving us out and defeating the Arcadian Guard in detail, though we’d finally fought them to a standstill at New Denver, ankle deep in the muck of blood and rain.

I woke up. My body was slick with sweat, my hair damp, my hands clammy and shaking as I held them in front of my face. I slipped my robes back on and padded, barefoot, out to the grass, across the road and into the temple, where the gentle grasses and flowers centered me again. I glanced up, to the open ceiling at the stars, the cold, distant, thousand eyes of the universe. I knelt and brought my head to the ground, shaking at the memories. The Crusade had ended over ten years ago. My wounds had gotten me sent home after the Fountainhead massacre, and I’d only stayed that long by choice. I had learned so, so much of the Randaynian barbarians during the Crusade, and even more afterward. What I’d learned of them made the guilt of the crimes we’d committed bearable, but Gaia, the screams, smoke, pillage…

They had needed to be driven out, but gods, we’d done so much horror. It had needed to be done, their crimes and blasphemies were beyond count, their ideals heretical and cruel, but that had been butchery we’d done at Fountainhead, not war. I’d been in my twenties when I’d joined the Guard, and fought for four long years. Not long after I’d been sent home, the Guard had been drawn into a cunning trap and devastated by the barbarian scum. Thousands had died. Even hungering for retribution for our fallen and desiring to avenge the horror we’d seen in the refugees who had escaped that revolting pit of corruption and vice, we couldn’t continue the war.

And thus, the battered Guard had withdrawn in good order from Randaynian territory, mauled past its effectiveness, and they had been too badly devastated in infrastructure, wealth, and troops, to argue. I was given to understand that they called it a victory as we did, but that war had been pointless: Thousands dead on both sides, and only a few eastern foothills claimed to fortify as a buffer zone against the barbarians.

No, I told myself, it hadn’t been for nothing, how could I say so? The Crusade had liberated hundreds of people who’d suffered horror and abuse at the hands of the barbarians who’d brutalized them for the crime of poverty. It had made a difference to them. My stumps burned where my fingers had been with an itch I’d never be able to scratch, and the faces of the brothers and sisters in arms who’d died swam in front of my vision, as had the old man who’d pleaded for mercy at Fountainhead. Please, he’d said, I fought because they paid me. I didn’t mean anything by it. Not that I’d shown it. When you pick up a weapon, you had best mean it, really believe what you’re carrying it for, as we had.

I crawled before the altar, kissed the roots that had grown around the oaken shrine, and took a deep breath. I would soon be taking an apprentice of my own, and an Inquisitor who could not tame his own demons had no business trying to help anyone else quiet theirs. “I feel thee beneath me, and feel thine breath and breeze upon my face, and hereby pledge myself to you, Mother of All.” I repeated the prayer and oath over and over, taking in lungfuls of the cold night air, before padding out of the temple, letting myself feel the breeze, and heading back to the inn. I was young for an Inquisitor – only thirty-six – but I felt so much older in that moment. I managed to stumble back to the bed and lie down, breathing slowly until I faded into sleep, hoping the nightmares wouldn’t come again.

***  
It proved a foolish hope. The eyes of that child, the tears of the ones who’d fled when the war had ravaged their townships, the rage of the helpless enemy at the tearing down of their homes and the plunder of their goods, crops, and what could be used by Arcadia, the destruction of all that went against Gaia’s design…

It wasn’t until years later that I learned what we’d consigned many of the refugees we’d created to – the very thing we’d been so outraged by when we’d heard that the Crusade had been called to begin with.

***  
I woke again, noting the sliver of soft gold light in the sky, and waited until the sun had fully crested the horizon before sliding back into my jacket and boots and preparing to ride back home. In a few weeks, the nightmares would go away. I could see a psychologist, as I’d been told to, but they hadn’t been there, and some of the things I’d done during the crusade – well, they’d challenged my faith, and as a member of Gaia’s Inquisition, I could hardly go around telling people things that had shaken me. Even psychologists.

Abe saw the look in my eyes as I moved to leave. “You having sleepless nights too?” I nodded, once. “Fountainhead?” I nodded, again. “You never knew the full details of the horrors they committed, Ash. Trust me. They deserved it.” I believed that. Truly did. Didn’t stop me from seeing it again every time I closed my eyes this time of year. He kept talking. “Hey, we rescued those people. The ones they were supposed to take care of and treated like the Old World treated animals, instead.” I knew. I knew what they had done, at least some of it. But Abe wasn’t really talking to me. I recognized the pain in his voice. He was trying to convince himself, too. I paid him for his hospitality, took breakfast with him, and told him to say hello to his wife and husband for me.

Then I saddled Quincy and started the long road back north to home.


	3. Hunting a Heretic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A former comrade of Ash's resurfaces, bearing a thoroughly heretical truth.

Quincy’s flanks heaved as her hooves thundered along the roads, making my damaged hip twinge agonizingly. It was worth it to ignore. It was over three weeks after my brief visit to Bay Hills, and there was a far more serious task to attend than a mere delivery of an approval. A former soldier had set fire in several forests to the south, starting massive blaze. The fire had been subdued, but there were two groups after him: the local constables were looking to arrest him for arson, the Inquisitors, being under order from the Temple, carried with us a solemn responsibility: to find the man and execute him for blasphemy.

My heart was heavy as I rode, for more reasons than I wanted to admit. During the Crusade I’d met the man who I was tasked with executing. He had, at the time, been a brave soldier and a loyal Arcadian, a faithful Gaian. His name was Robert Eckhart, and when I’d known him his eyes had shone like emerald stars of zealous fire for what we were doing. Storms, we’d each saved each others’ lives, but after the Crusade, he’d cut ties with me. I didn’t really blame him, we’d all had our own healing to do after the Crusade ended, and for him, I’d assumed that meant walking away from things tied to those memories. Robert had been wounded during the battle of Fountainhead, as had I, but where my wounds from that day had fully healed, he carried his as I carried my own lost fingers and bad hip from other battles of the campaign. I could not imagine what would have driven him to inflict the horror I’d seen on my travels, and I hoped to get his answer before I executed him

I was riding towards the last known location where he might have been spotted, preparing to look at the tracks he left behind. I had passed through the horrid damage wreaked upon the sacred groves in Yosemite. I arrived at the inn where he had last stayed – oddly enough, a rebuilt pre-Storms place called Tenaya Lodge, reigned Quincy in sharply and slid off the saddle, even if the hasty dismount sent pain lancing up my hip. I was wearing the Earthen Eyes of the Inquisitor outside my jacket this time, as I’d have little time to talk in a friendly manner. Normally, I was more than happy to be casual, not throw my weight around, but a Guard deserter-turned-heretic who had gone and committed arson and blasphemy wasn’t something I could afford to do that with. The seriousness of the situation was such that I had even invoked my right to one of the ancient firearms kept in the Vault of Armaments for the duration of the hunt. I hoped not to use it – it threw lead slugs that would poison the ground if not carefully re-collected.

I threw the door to the Lodge, prompting a few people to look up nervously, taking in the black jacket and mark of office, and I saw the color drain from the face of the woman behind the counter. He blanched and held up his hands as I approached. “Rebecca Ellis.” She introduced herself and gestured around her. Scorch me, some other idiot had passed through here and scared a witness. Probably another Inquisitor, the guard weren’t usually enough to scare the shit out of people.

“Ash Roanoke, Druid of the Circle of Inquisition.” Formalities, formalities… “I’m on the hunt for a man named Robert Eckhart, he’s a former Guardsman who posted a heretical declaration on a Circle Stewardship outpost and then blasphemed by committing arson in Yosemite. He’s tall, green eyes, missing a few teeth, nasty sword scar across the palm of his left hand.” My own wounded hand twitched. “I was told he’d stayed here a night before the act. Any idea where he was going?”

“He wouldn’t confide much in me, sir.” Rebecca was clearly worried I’d mistaken her for an accomplice or co-conspirator.

“Ma’am. You are not a suspect in this investigation. In any way. You run an inn, news is slow to travel – and news of heretical statements even slower, by Inquisitorial design. You’re in no danger. I just want to know if you had any idea where he went.”

“He stayed here for a night, headed west. Didn’t smell like smoke or fire when he left though.” I nodded. That made way too much sense. He hadn’t set the fire before he’d stayed here. Which meant I was going to have to go into the burned area just to see if I could spot any tracks.

“Say anything interesting? No worries, no matter what he said?”

Rebecca nodded. “Spent a lot of time saying the war was a mistake, but that’s about it.” Which would have been well within a citizen’s rights, and opposing a war was never heretical. I nodded to the innkeep and stood to go, only for one of the stable-hands to reach out a hand. “Oh, Inquisitor?”

“Yes?”

The kid – hell, about as old as I’d been when I’d taken work as a courier, before I’d joined the Arcardian Guard, and later, the Inquisition – “He was saying something about making a statement somewhere. I’m sorry, I assumed he meant he was going to one of the courts, I would have alerted the Guard if I’d known…”

I shook my head. “No one would fault you for not realizing. Did he say where he meant to make a statement?”

The stablehand looked at me blankly and then shook his head, and I realized I’d asked a question he’d already answered. “Right, sorry. Thanks for your help.”

***

That was it, I figured, as I got back onto Quincy. I was going to have to go to the devastated area myself and see if there were any tracks that weren’t ruined by the ash. I reigned in near the burned out forests that had been desecrated, found tracks easily enough and followed them a ways before I realized that the trail I had spotted was a false one. Doubling back and swearing as I remembered that Roberts had been a decent enough tracker to qualify for a scouting post back in the war, I found another trail and followed it just as far before realizing that it, too, was bullshit.

“Scorched Earth, ASSHOLE! What are you…” The next three trails weren’t better but I finally found one that stretched to what remained of a pavement road. That surface where tracks didn’t get made.

With no way to actually follow his trail…wait. Maybe a trail of soot left behind? No, it had been too windy around here, any soot was more likely blown from the fires he’d started than tracked on by his boots. Ugh where the hell could he have gone? And why did he do this?

Then a gentle breeze stirred ash from the ground and brought fresh air to my face as I looked around at the devastation wrought by a former friend. And a thought came to me. That stablehand had given me the information I needed. “He wanted to make a statement.” I thought about the area and realized what he was doing, jumping back into Quincy’s saddle and riding north on the road.

I knew where he was going.

***

He’d gotten a ways ahead of me in the time he’d had, but he was taking old roads to avoid Inquisitorial attention. I knew where he was heading. He was going to a guard outpost to formally surrender and be tried in a secular court. Arson was a hanging offense regardless of who convicted him, but in a secular court he’d be able to make some grand statement that would be recorded and read by scores of people before the Inquisition got to look it over. Which meant he’d let everyone know what madness was on his mind and maybe convince some of them to do as he had.

I saw a figure dart into the brush off the road as he heard my approach. I reined sharply and turned Quincy’s gallop after him, drawing my sword as I did so. An arrow hissed from the brush at me and I deliberately dove out of the saddle to avoid it, landing on my bad hip, the pain knocking the breath out of me even as the deserter swung his blade hard at my head, which I only barely parried. I stumbled to my feet, drawing my little holdout knife as well as he and I fought, me circling to try to stay in Robert’s blind spot. He looked about how I remembered him – vaguely handsome, with grey eyes, just one now, and short, dark hair. Paler than me, too. The scar from the knife that had taken his eye was nastily flushed as his blade hissed through the air towards me again, and I realized as I parried that one thing hadn’t changed: he was still much stronger than me - but I was the better blade. I stepped inside his reach, keeping my own blades tight and stabbed my holdout dagger into his thigh, even as he wrapped my neck in a choke, I slammed my saber through his foot and twisted before elbowing him in the stomach.

Twisting out of his grip I brought my saber down on his lower spine, and saw his legs go nerveless as he collapsed. Flicking my sword to his throat, I spoke. “Corporal Robert Eckhart. You are guilty of heresy and attempted murder of an Inquisitor attending his duty, and suspected of arson and blasphemy. You are hereby given a chance to speak your piece.”

My old friend glowered into my eyes. “Still buying that superstitious crap, Ash? Don’t remember all the horror of the Crusade!” He scrambled to throw ash at my eyes only to have his machete kicked out of his hand. “That was war and you know it. You saw the people we rescued from there, you saw how they treated the vulnerable. Please tell me that you didn’t blaspheme and commit something this awful just to avenge monsters like that.”

He shook his head. “No. I burned the ‘sacred forests’ down because I found some old documents and saw the truth after I started doubting. Gaia’s a myth. She’s a lie. They told us the lie after the calamity so we wouldn’t come up with another one and people deserve to know it! They’re killing to keep up a lie, Ash, don’t you see how sick that is?”

I shook. The poor man was mad. What documents was he talking about? The Eckhart I knew wasn’t a liar. My blade trembled, and I drew it back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you just committed a far more grevious heresy. And you’ve confessed to your blasphemy and arson.” My blade lowered for a moment, then I spoke again, voice clearer.

“Corporal Robert Eckhart, in the name of the People of Arcadia and her stewardships, as well as the power invested in me as a member of the Druidic Circle of Gaia’s Inquisition, I hereby sentence you to death.” He held up a hand half-heartedly as though to ward off the blow, and could only gasp as the blade parted his throat and plunged into his heart. I held it there, looking into the remaining eye of a man I once trusted, wondering what monster had shown him something that had led him so astray that he would do something like this.

I slung him over the saddle and showed the body the Guard, sending a letter back to the Circle to inform them that Robert Eckhart had been executed for his crimes. As I leaned back on my bunk, I thought about what he had said. “They made Her up, so that we wouldn’t make another Calamity.”

I shuddered. That had to be a lie, put into his war-rattled mind by some self-serving monster. Had to be. I’d find the person who had done that to him. And…I glanced at the calendar I kept in my journal. Oh Gaia, I’d almost forgot. Two weeks from now I was due back at the Temple in the southern Cascades. I was to begin training an apprentice.

I leaned back in the bunk I was borrowing, said a quick prayer, and closed my eyes. Hopefully helping someone else find their path would make the memories of my own a little easier.


	4. Crossing Paths Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River is introduced.

The main temple of the Circle of Inquisition felt like coming home as it always did. The gentle, cool earth and soft grasses on the threshold were lovely, and I stepped through them, leaning my weapons against the door as I did so. The other Druids there raised a hand in salute to me, and I placed a hand on my heart and sank a little. “Brothers, Sisters. I am told that I am to begin the training of an Apprentice today.” I was trying to control my own pounding heartrate. I didn’t know what I was doing. I had faith in Gaia but I didn’t know if I could properly train someone else how to be a set of Her eyes. Still, I took a breath and stepped forward, moving towards the shrine that had been prepared for my time with my apprentice, where I’d swear the oaths of mentorship in front of my adoptive mother as witness…Storms, I was going to see Willow again.

I took in the scent of the lilac and lavender that lined the walls and opened the sturdy oaken door that separated me from the chamber where my new apprentice would have spent a full night in solitary prayer and initiate’s garb while trying to prepare themselves for the journey they’d start today. I opened the door slowly, and caught a glimpse of the grey garb of an initiate to the Circle of Inquisition, under a tightly pulled ponytail of bottleblonde hair, not quite concealing the scars around the initiate’s neck.

I shook. No. No. The Circle must have made a mistake, not read my journals about the war, not asked this girl where she’d come from…it was definitely her though. The terrified waif whose mix of hope and terror had been a fixture of my nightmares since Fountainhead.

She turned around and all the doubt was ripped out of me as though by a storming gale and she recognized me as well. Her hazel eyes widened in horrified shock as she saw my face and my bad hand, instantly proving that she remembered that day as well. Forcing down the panicked memories, I hold out my hand. “My name is Ash, Adept of the Druidic Circle of Inquisition. I am the one slated to be your mentor in your journey to become a set of Gaia’s eyes.” I forced the words of ritual out through the myriad questions swirling in my head.

“My name is River, Initiate of the Druidic Circle of Inquisition. I am to be your apprentice and walk the path you show me to become a set of Gaia’s eyes.” I was relieved that she had been taught well enough to fall back on ritual as well. The memories were still slashing through my head, and I could tell by her trembling that she was having the same problem, and forced my own panic down. I was a mentor-circle inquisitor now. I had to train my apprentice, which meant helping her get through this.

So Willow strode into the room, grabbed both myself and River by the wrist, and led us into the meditation chamber, where she spoke.

“Ash, Adept of the Druidic Circle of Inquisition, you are hereby granted the rank of “Mentor” and ordered to preform this sacred duty of rank towards River, Initiate of the Druidic Circle of Inquisition. You are to provide for all needs your apprentice has, see to it that their proper education in other areas continues as necessary, instruct them in the proper doctrines of faith for a Druid of the Inquisition, and keep her to the code we follow. Instill in her the sense of duty and humility that befits the Eyes of Gaia.” Those stern, dark eyes, like a safe, stony harbor in a high storm at sea bored into mine. “In Her name, I will do my duty, and see to it that my apprentice is trained as an Inquisitor of Gaia, and give my life for hers as necessary.”

“And River, Initiate of the Druidic Circle of Inquisition, are granted the rank of "Apprentice" and given to him in the aim of completing your training as an inquisitor. You will obey him where necessary, follow his lead, and discharge your duty under his watchful eye, accepting discipline, reprimand, and praise in accordance with your efforts, and taking in his wisdom.” She waited for River’s response, which the girl gave.

“I leave you to for the night of joint meditation and explaining yourselves to one another, that you may know and work together better.”

She made the sign of the Earth’s thousand hearts, and walked out, closing the door behind her, leaving my apprentice and I alone with the shrine.

We both glanced warily at each other, and I spoke first. “As I’m sure they mentioned in initiation, there’s no lying permitted here, from either of us. You may ask me any question and I must answer honestly and fully, and vice versa. We can both ask the other to rescind questions if we are uncomfortable answering, but the other may refuse to do so. You have the right to ask first.”

She nodded, then thought about it. “Are you the soldier I saw butcher my brother’s trainer during the Crusade?” 

I nodded. “That other boy in the house, the slightly older one, he was your brother?”  
“He is. He’s still alive. He joined the Guard after our rehabilitation, he’s a company commander now. Wanted a bit of his own back from Randynia.” I nodded, that was understandable. Then she asked another question. “I saw your reaction. Do you still have nightmares about the war?”

I nodded. “Especially around this time of year. Fountainhead and the Black Hills were especially hard on me. Do you?”  
“No. My nightmares are from the time leading up to that, before the Arcadian Guard showed up and burned that city to the ground. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, those bastards had it coming.” I took a moment to process that vitriol. Then it was my turn to ask a question.

“What made you decide to become an Inquisitor? It’s not an easy life, and you’re in for at least twenty years before you have the option to leave. Most of us don’t die of old age. And forget about dating, or kids, while you’re in the Inquisition.”

She paused, and I realized I’d probably asked one of the big questions first. “I wasn’t strong enough to join the guard, and some of the things they…did to us…gave us pretty strong aversions to hospitals, so my old dreams of becoming a doctor were pretty much over. The temple took us in and helped us get back on our feet, and I thought for a while about being a psychologist, but I was really struggling to deal with my own issues and pretty quickly realized I couldn’t help anyone else like that. I never really wanted to be a preacher, and I did work as a tutor for a little while, but I don’t know, I guess…”

I paused, and when she gestured, helplessly asking me to take a guess, I said, “You wanted to travel, see the world, see if breathing the air and running over the soil could get you away from the trauma, and you realized that you weren’t really cut out for courier work.”

She nodded. “Yeah, that. And I’m not quite as devout as the rest of the Initiates, I know, but I need to…I need to do this.” She paused. “Do you have a problem with that?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know about “not as devout” but if you mean that you’re not one of those people who refuse to have opinions for fear of saying something heretical, or that you never question your beliefs, that’s actually good. You’d make a bad Inquisitor, otherwise.”

She shivered. “So…the doubts I have? They’re okay? They’re normal?”

I nod. “Yes. They’re normal. Do you have any further questions?”

River nodded. “Is it okay if I visit my brother? I never would have survived the time we spent as slaves if he hadn’t been there. And…there was a woman, Vera, who our family rescued from an abusive owner before my family were killed. Is there any way I would be allowed to see if she made it to Arcadia during the war?”

I pause. “Yes, and yes, though the latter part will be something you’ll have to pursue later. An Inqusitorial badge will get you full access to the files on different ex-slave refugees from Randayna, but you’ll have to spend a lot of time looking through them. If I may ask, what did ruin your dreams of being a doctor?”

Her mouth worked, then she said, “I request that you rescind that question, my Mentor.” I paused, then nodded. Odds were it would come up eventually, and if it didn’t – well, there were some things even an Inquisitor had no right to know. “Alright. One other question then: Are you ready for the night of meditation and vigil?”

She shuddered and nodded. Then she dug her hands into the grass by the shrine, and I closed my eyes. “Let strength flow from the ground into you, take in the breeze, let the starlight shine down on you. Focus on what you want to find in the Inquisition, focus on the places you draw your strength from. The idea of healing from past hurts, of helping secure the better, gentler world preached by the Gaian faith and built by the Arcadian people. Deep breath.” I guided her through it, and my own heartrate gradually slowed. River’s slight frame slowly steadied as she breathed in and out until she finally spoke again. “Alright. Alright.”

She eventually drifted off to sleep, as was expected partway through as she had remained awake the entire previous night as well. I was to maintain the vigil over my new, sleeping apprentice. I threw a travel blanket over her, letting her curl up beneath it, and looked outward. I would be teaching someone with more than a few of her own ghosts. And for once, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t be so bad at this after all.


	5. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River's first day of training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is told from River's perspective, and perspectives will flip throughout the story going forward

I woke up as the reeds on either end of the shrine room rattled in the morning wind. My new mentor was standing over me, watching with a careful eye, but a warm expression. If it didn’t remind me quite as much as it did of Logan, it would have been comforting, but as it was, I took a sharp breath and made my mind race. What if his gentle eyes and words the night before had all been lies, meant to reassure me before he began trying to change me to be something else, something more convenient for his goals?

Deep breath. I wasn’t blind. He walked with a definite limp, and if I needed to, I could get away from him. I slowly pulled my boots on and stood up, seeing Ash nod at me. I spoke, “I know I shouldn’t have dozed off, but…”

He smiles, faintly, and shakes his head. “You aren’t supposed to, but after a full night of meditation the night before, most apprentices do. I certainly did during my night of bonding meditation with Willow. The night of Vigil is actually more for the mentor, to watch the student and think on how to best demonstrate the qualities they want to instill.” That actually made more than a little sense.

“And what conclusions did you come to?” I met his eyes, a flash of the defiance I’d shown Logan in my eyes. I wanted this one to know that I didn’t trust him yet, and that I wasn’t putting up with any shit. I’d learned how to use a weapon since my rescue, damnit. I wasn’t helpless.

He paused, tensing, then relaxing. “I realized that you and I are both dealing with a lot of bad memories that being around each other is likely to enflame, but that we might be able to help each other work through it over time.” I shrugged. The way he was talking about the situation was entirely too reminiscent of the bastards I’d been rescued from. I knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose – I’d seen him fight them, after all – but he was the exact blend of gentle and steely that the people I’d escaped from had been, and his bearing bordered on identical: silk hiding sharp steel.

“Can you drop the act?” the words were out before I could think about them, and I winced at the strange expression his face took on.

Then he spoke. “What act?”

I was in too deep to bow out now, so I explained. “The act where you act completely calm and understanding about all the weird shit you know is coming with me. The stoic calm, the gentle stuff, the icy bearing, I’ve seen that all before and I know what it amounts to. You’re not telling me something, and I want to know what it is.”

His damaged hand twitched. “Alright.” He shuddered and looked me in the eye. “I am completely unsure that it was wise for me to be named your mentor given our previous interaction and how it pertains to both our mental states. I’m a far, far cry from perfect, and a really far cry from having healed from the Crusade, or the…deficiencies of my own youth. I’m not sure I can train you properly while we’re also constantly opening each other’s wounds. But I’m willing to try.”

I thought about that, and it still felt like he was holding a little back. Also, what did he mean, the ‘deficiencies of his youth?’ There was no way his was as bad as Beckett’s and mine. Or Van’s. But he was sincere about his concerns, and he seemed the type to conceal any trouble he was having without talking it over much. Maybe he could be a decent mentor.

“Alright. I have a question. What happened in your childhood?”

He stiffened, then said quietly, “Do they talk about the Arcticin outbreak in in Randaynia? Did it go past the Sierras, actually?”

It had. I knew that it had gone harder on Arcadia than it had on us. Entire villages had been devastated, even for us. They’d bounced back faster than we had. The bacteria was one of the ones that had been paralyzed for thousands of years under arctic ice, and now that the polar caps were gone…every now and again it made the rounds and killed people in the thousands. Hell, Vera had been orphaned in the outbreak, years before I was born…

Ash was speaking again, and I snapped back to attention. “My family were annihilated. Few people offered to take me in, but realistically they had their own problems, so I wound up getting handed over to one of the circles. Willow – that older Inquisitor? – she practically raised me, and…well. She was an Inquisitor. Wasn’t around much. Wound up staying with a lot of people while she travelled around doing Gaia’s work. And…Well, it wasn’t as bad as what happened to you after you lost your family, but it did prevent me from ever really having roots or a home.”

I blinked. He was pretty open with his story – then again, I had noticed that in Arcadians as a whole. There wasn’t much shame in talking about trauma here, or at the very least, it didn’t come with a stigma of being too weak to carry your own burdens. My own story was one I still wasn’t exactly eager to share in full, but I had at least a hunch that this distant-eyed Inquisitor would be a more sympathetic audience than Logan or Cara had ever been.

“So, Apprentice River,” he said, with a quiet tone that indicated he was ready to return to some degree of the day’s business. “Today you’re going to be getting a few key tools of the Inquisitorial trade.” He paused. “First is going to be the pocket version of the Whispers of the Earth.” That was a holy text, one of three, and the one that was most relevant to the duties of the Inquisition. It was the section of the tome that emphasized service to others and the necessity of taking care of the earth. I’d already read it dozens of times, and I didn’t know how far I took it, but I liked what had come out of it and I could honor Gaia for the compassion her people were willing to show. “Then we’re picking out weapons. I know the likelihood is that you trained with a number of blades and bows as an initiate. Today you’re picking out your favorite blades, and a bow you liked the feeling of. Choose carefully because you only get to pick once and you are going to be sticking with whatever weapons you pick for the rest of your career.” I glanced up at him, and the Guard-issue saber he had hanging from his belt, the smooth-worn grip and the battered sheath.

Seemed boring to pick a standard weapon, as he had, but clearly it worked well for him. Now that I thought about it, it seemed pretty likely that that was the same weapon he’d carried during the war. I’d only known Ash for a day but he already seemed the type to keep a weapon just because he was familiar with it. “Alright, and then you train me in the finer points, right?”

He nodded. “Think so. Which means I’m also going to have to pick up the weighted wooden sparring versions.” Right, the sparring versions. Weapons weren’t terribly exciting to me in their own right, but I was looking forward to training to be the kind of badass inquisitors were supposed to be, though the sparring sessions I’d had while an Initiate hadn’t been pleasant. Still, with that in mind it was easy enough to walk after Ash as he pulled a small, iron key from the grey-black jacket and opened a cellar door, signaling me to climb down. Once we were in the cellar, he hit a switch and the lights flickered on. Lining the walls were swords of just about every kind, hatchets, machetes, piles and piles of knives, and bows, wrapped carefully in water-proofed leather to protect them from the weather.

I glanced along the rows of swords. I glance back at Ash, trying to think of what I really need from a sword. “Uh…Sir?”

“Either “Mentor” for formal occasions, or “Ash” for moments like now, River.” I blinked, and then nodded. “Right, Ash. What kind of thing should I pick?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you want, really. I picked the saber I have because it’s reliable, versatile, and because I’m trained with it. It’s also light enough to run with and heavy enough to cut through most armor if I need it to. A few considerations to keep in mind when you pick it.” I hadn’t considered all of that, and I shrugged as I looked through my options with a new eye. I saw one that I liked the look of – black, chisel-pointed blade, hilt long enough that I could one or two hand it if I needed to, slight curve. I picked it up, and I heard Ash wince. I turned around and said, “What?” feeling strangely defensive as I did so.

Ash grunted. “Nothing wrong with that weapon per se, but if you want to use one of those you’re going to have to get used to making really precise strokes. Hit anyone wearing metal with that at the wrong angle and it’ll break pretty badly.”

I shrugged as I hefted it. It fit my hand as well as any of the weapons I’d trained with before, I liked the possibility of switching grips if I needed, and it certainly seemed light enough to run with. Not too long to swing effectively indoors, either. “I get to choose though, right?” I looked at him. He nodded, once. “You do. I do want to let you know though, I will have to grab a manual about the forms with that weapon, it’s been a long time since I saw anyone using one. That isn’t to say you can’t, just that we will be learning that weapon together.”

I paused, and then he continued, “I wouldn’t worry to much. Some of the best training I got from Mentor Willow was when we were learning things together. If you want to take that one, do so. We’ll get the manual.” I smiled at him as I lifted the weapon off the wall and belted it on.

“And knives?” He shrugged.

“For that one I highly advise a camp knife. You’re going to want it as a tool at least as often as a weapon. As with the previous statement you don’t have to, but I am going to strengthen my recommendation on this one.” I nodded, that actually seemed reasonable. I took a light, simple camp knife with a six inch blade, the first of which was serrated. The grip was leather wrapped, and the pommel included a compass…even better, when I opened the pommel I found that it had a tiny compartment for dry matches.

For a bow I took a compound bow that had a pretty heavy draw but one that I could manage. Ash made me pull it and hold for a little while before he nodded. “Yeah, you can handle that one, good. We’ll work on target practice later. Pack your new gear.” I picked it up, slinging it behind me, and then we went to the archive, where I got a – relatively – recent map, glancing at the borders of Arcadia, the neighbor to the east where I’d been born, and later rescued from. The Federation in the Northeast, the Plains Coalition – though after the freak tornadoes that had devastated it a year after the war, I was pretty sure at least one of those cities wasn’t there anymore – to the north of Arcadia was the Canadian wilds, though what had once been Canada was now a huge swathe of thawed-out tundra and deforested ruin, harvested by the rush of panicked refugees during the calamity. The Stormplains were delineated on the map, but I wasn’t sure why – I wasn’t aware that that region still had people in it. To the south there were the floodplains and wastes, and further west, there were the ruins of several of Old California’s cities.

There were a few markings on the map as well – ones I hadn’t seen on official maps before. Guard bases, back trails, and a few marks that from where they were situated, probably indicated caches. I voiced my suspicions about the latter to Ash and he grinned and nodded, very approvingly. “Good guess. How did you know?”

“Near crossroads but always in areas where they’d probably be easy to miss. Spread out enough that if an inquisitor needs anything they’ll be able to get to a cache quickly.” He smiled. “Good.”

He dropped the Whispers of the Earth into my pack as well. “Oh, and River. Best part of your first day of training is about to start. Last thing you get issued.” He gestured for me to follow him. I knew what was coming next as he threw the doors to the stables open. “You get a horse. A courier horse, bred for running long distances. And also, obviously, the tack and saddle you need to ride it.” He whistled and his own horse, which had been grazing in the pasture, trotted over to him. Ash pulled a small, dried apple from his pack and offered it. “Hey, Quincy.” He stroked her neck and petted her, then gently draped a saddle blanket across her back, jogged to the shed where that equipment was kept, and lifted his saddle onto her back. As he did so, I noticed his saddle was strange. It had a little more cushioning on the left side, like he was expecting – oh. That was right, he walked with a serious limp to that side.

He hoisted the saddle up and then gently cinched on, retrieving the bridle as well, coaxing Quincy gently and then gently fitting in the bit. “So, River. Why don’t you find a horse you like – one of the yearlings, they should have practice and you want a horse that’ll grow with you – and get it to come with you.”

I nodded, nervously. I’d had riding lessons before, as an initiate, but not many and not long – I assumed that that, like the finer points of fighting, was supposed to be taught one on one by a mentor. Still, I had seen one horse, a paint mare, that I liked, and knew that she was of the right age to be up for selection. I ran to the stables, my heart pounding with excitement. The first day of training was going well, Ash seemed to be a good enough person to work under, and I was finally going to see the rest of Arcadia and Gaia’s earth – and even better, Ash had agreed to let me try to find some other family who’d been scattered back in Randayna, if they were in Arcadia.

I found the horse I’d hoped to see. The door on her stall noted that she didn’t have a name yet, that because she was for selection she had to be named by whatever Apprentice chose her. I gently neighed to her, and reached out to stroke her nose. She nickered away from my hand, and for a moment, I paused, but kept speaking gently as I’d been told to, then slowly shied away from the stall, retrieved a few apples from a barrel and gently coaxed her out til she let me gently get a saddle on her, speaking gently all the while. “Yeah, sweetie, good job. You want out of the stables, right?” I was getting giddy. What to name her though? What kind of name worked for her? I started giggling a little. I could name her after Cara, but I didn’t want to saddle this poor thing with that. She nickered a little bit and trotted back and forth like…

“Do you like Daisy?” Lily was still a little too close, but the way she’d moved just now reminded me of my little sister, back when. The little dance she did back and forth. Didn’t want to open those wounds every time I said the name of my horse. Daisy was a flower name, and it sounded a little tougher, a little more adaptable. The horse’s tail swished as I gently got the saddle on, gently stroking her mane to get her to let the bridle in. I gently walked her out into the open, and I swung up into the saddle. I gently stroked her neck, and held the reins. I saw Ash, still standing there, watching me from next to Quincy. He swung himself into the saddle, wincing as the weight hinged on his bad hip, but gently nudging the horse forward to ride next to me. As the breeze blew through the clearing by the temple, he grinned. “Ready?”

I checked to make sure I’d secured all the kit I’d been given to the saddle properly. “Yeah.”

He gestured at the road in front of us, and nodded. “Well then, apprentice. Let’s get started with your training.” We gently got the horses moving forward, and soon, nudged them into a gentle jog, before they lept into a full-blown gallop. For the first time in a long time, I was genuinely excited. My time as an Initiate had paid off, and starting to move forward as an Apprentice, I could see my future as an Inquistor for the first time. And now that I was seeing the beauty of the open roads again, I was finally seeing why these people worshipped Gaia so much. “Let’s.”


	6. Swordplay Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River and Ash spar, they also talk about the shared past that they have.

**Ash**

“Left low, lunge right, then switch grip.” River was coming along well enough as a swordfighter, and using the manual we’d found for the sword she had picked we’d managed to work out a fairly effective style for her use, but she still had a few problems. She got through that set well enough, then we resumed sparring at our normal pace, only for me to gain a very slight edge, and begin pressing forward. Instead of taking a step back and making me overextend as a more seasoned swordsman might have done, she planted her feet more firmly, meaning that I twisted my sword around and locked the two, before elbowing her in the jaw and kicking her back before flicking my sword under her chin.

“That wasn’t fair!”  
“Apprentice, I have news for you. I am a half-blind, half-handed cripple and you joined the Inquisition. Every fight you are ever going to be in is a street fight. So fight like it. Don’t play fair. Sucker-punch me. Groin kick. Hilt bash me in the face. Anything and everything you can come up with is a viable trick.”

She leaned back and groaned, then slowly rolled to her feet and growled, “There’s no way to beat you.”

I took a step closer. “Not true. You’ve already progressed enough to make me use brawling techniques to win. Now, stand up. I want to play that sequence again. This time, I want you to give ground and let me overextend.”

She started to get up and swiped my leg with her own, driving forward ferociously and slashed repeatedly at me, switching between grips and pushing aggressively until I finally managed to turn the sequence around, forcing her to give ground, chuckling ferociously, until I realized a split second too late that I actually had done exactly what I told her to make me do. Then her wooden sparring sword impacted my wrist and made me drop my sword before twisting and lunging into my gut and knocking the wind out of me.

I gasped and she smirked at me and asked how she’d done.

I flashed a thumbs up as I slowly regained my breath. “Nice. You kicked my ass. Good dirty fighting. And you got the trick I intended you to get.” I stood up slowly and smiled. “That was awesome. How long have we been going?”

She looked at the watch she’d been issued. “Uh…better part of two hours.” I nodded. “Right. That should be all the swordplay practice we need today. Here’s a closing thought: Don’t plant your feet. Ever. You’re not a large person, and the style you’re working with is almost entirely momentum based. You get into a contest of static strength, just about anyone is going to destroy you.”

She nodded. “Yes, Mentor Ash.”

**River**

Ash was fucking infuriating to train under. Not like _they_ had been, mind. He had brutally high standards and had no qualms about knocking me sprawling when I didn’t measure up to them, at least in combat training. Hell, I’d probably taken more beatings as an Inquisitorial Apprentice than I’d taken as a slave, and we were only a month in. Then again, getting thrashed as a natural part of combat training was better than getting thrashed as a punishment – I was actually learning something I’d set out to learn, and I completely believed Ash when he said that you can only learn swordplay by doing it, which meant getting sent sprawling when you fucked it up. It also helped that, like many Arcadians I’d met, he demanded high standards of behavior from everyone else – but was just as demanding of himself. The infuriating part was how hard some of the forms were to get right, but I had been warned about that and I wasn’t about to admit that this sword might not have been the best idea after all. 

I was working on combing some of the burrs out of Daisy’s tail while Ash checked the calendar duties we had for the day. “Hey, River!” his tone was more informal than usual as he limped towards me. “Good news for you. Orders for the day is an inspection of the contents of a book cache found pretty recently. Stuff’s locked down in a holding vault not far from the Old California ruins where the delvers found it – apparently it was in a hidden room of one of the old libraries, managed to stay sealed til the Stewardship engineers drained the building.”

So we were south, based on where he was gesturing at the map. “And better yet, once we’re done going through the books, Circle apparently wants us to ride escort with them to the library. And if we’re in the library, well…”

Copies of the archives. Where I could take my inquisitorial badge to be allowed to check through them, with Ash’s signed permission. And he was grinning. “Yeah, River. You can at least start your research today.”

I nodded eagerly. Then something struck me. “Wait, why are inquisitors escorting a few wagonloads of old books? Shouldn’t that be a thing for Guard?”

“Texts being transferred yes, new texts being brought in, no. We’ll likely have a small contingent of Guard troops who will be around, and the odds of bandits are ridiculously small. It’s just an easy jaunt, you can get a taste of how to interact with people who aren’t inquisitors and make sure they’re comfortable talking to you, and get aquainted with the most boring part of the job – you know, checking new texts against heretical records to figure out what we should keep and what has to be stored in a safe vault by the Inquisition – and then you get to spend the rest of the day pursuing your own research.”

Right. I had forgotten that for all that Arcadia was leaps and bounds better than the social Darwinist nightmare that was Randaynia, they were far from without problems – then again, as I thought about it, maybe the compromises they made on free exchange of ideals had kept them from being, you know, the absolute worst. Still, that didn’t seem like the kind of thing a member of the Druidic Circle of Gaia’s Inquisition should admit to, and Gaia did I want to be one of those.

“Alright. Sounds good. So when do we leave?”

Ash’s face took on the wry expression that I had already come to associate with irritating replies. “In however many minutes it takes to saddle our horses.” I grinned and began lifting the saddle onto Daisy’s back, even as Ash began doing the same with Quincy and we began riding off south to meet with the Guard and the delvers.

***

**_Ash_ **

The road was long and I was getting frustrated as I attempted to teach River. My hip was aching with the ride, and while she herself was a wonderful person, it was also clear that neither of us slept well on the road, dealing with our own memories. It didn’t help that as decent a blade as she was starting to become, her learning from me was going to be impeded by my own injuries, which she was clever enough to notice on the first day and start circling to my weak side, which in turn made it harder to counter her – even when she made mistakes that would get her slammed fighting anyone who wasn’t partly crippled.

We were slowly getting over the tailbone of the Cascades, heading south from Ukiah, one of the pre-Calamity settlements that had been rebuilt in Arcadia – burned down during the fires that had ravaged this region before the weather eventually evened out enough to rebuild it in 232 AC. It wasn’t a big thing that had brought us to Ukiah, it was just a better hub than New Eureka, which was fairly isolated, geographically. The sky was clear, which was fortunate, though this was storm season, so we couldn’t rely on that forever.

As we rode, nudging the horses to a gentle trot rather than a full gallop – delving teams always warned us a few days ahead of when they’d need Inquisitors there, so it wasn’t like we needed to hurry – I decided to ask my apprentice a few questions. “So, River. You mentioned a woman you’re looking for in hopes of finding family – Vanessa. You also said she was a slave.” I paused, trying to kindly ask what had happened to her parents and how it was that she’d wound up where she’d been when the Crusade had come through. While also not accusing her family of deserving the crusade for having had slaves. I mean, I assumed that she’d been enslaved and sold separately from her, or perhaps they’d died before hand and she’d wound up in the hands of unscrupulous slavers? I could believe that of the Randaynian government, they hardly made an effort to defend their people – they had nine armies, one for each of the oligarchs who paid mercenary armies to guard their interests – and until the Crusade had threatened all of them, we’d rarely had to fight more than one army at a time. When they’d all agreed to deal with us together, and we’d fought all nine at once, as well as thousands of lightly armed conscript refugees who refused to defect.

“She was an ex-slave we tried for years to smuggle out of the country once we realized that Arcadia would protect her. We finally succeeded just a few years before my brother and I were enslaved following our family’s deaths, and you Arcadians came about a year and a half later.”

Ah. Her parents had been trying to do the right thing. Just hadn’t managed it til it was nearly too late. “Hopefully she made it. I’ll help you find her again, if you want. But you’re still going to be in the inquisition for a while yet.” We rode in silence for a few miles, I trying to meditate on the world I was riding while attempting to ignore the pain lancing from my bad hip, River…I wasn’t sure what she was thinking on, but she seemed deep in thought.

**River**

Ash’s face was in that expression he took on when he was trying to block something out, and until I saw the way he tensed on the right, I didn’t realize he was trying to block out his old injuries. My own head was swimming with some of the memories that had come back while I was talking about Vanessa, and I hadn’t realized til just now how happy I was that she was probably still alive.

Arcadia though…they clearly had started that war without realizing how much it would fuck up their own infrastructure to have that flood of refugees, and even with as many of us as there were they seemed to be making an effort – even if the Inquisition was keeping tabs on everyone, “Just to make sure that there weren’t enemy infiltrators in our midst” but honestly I suspected it was more to make sure we’d unlearned Randaynian worldviews. Seemed more the business of Inquisitors – spies were usually dealt with through secular government means, meaning the Guard or its intelligence services.

“I have a question as well, if I may ask?” My voice lifted at the end as we finally got to more level ground and the horses sped up a little bit.

He nodded, and I proceeded. “Are you in pain?”

Ash smiled through tight lips. “Yes. Beautiful as the ride always is, its always hard on my hip this season.”

“Do you need us to slow down?”

“No. I will say that you should quit taking too much advantage of that in our sparring sessions. You won’t always be fighting someone half-crippled.” I flushed and glowered, feeling defensive – he had told me to fight dirty after all - until he laughed a little. “I don’t blame you. But you aren’t training to fight me. Most of your opponents in this work are going to be less injured than me and more experienced than you.”

“So here’s a real question for you. What was the goal in the Crusade? I don’t think it’s ever been explained to me.” I wanted to know why they’d come like the fist of Gaia on the social Darwinist bastards who’d done all that to all of us. “For that matter, what happened to Plutocrat Reynolds?”

He seemed to weigh his response before answering. “Lot of escaped or freed slaves coming over the border asked for help, and what they told us enflamed the populace of Arcadia enough that…well, the Senate and the Faith both agreed, something had to be done about the complete lack of humanity. So a bunch of young men and women joined the Guard, got their crossbows, sabers, light shields, and went to war. It failed because…well, it lasted six years and the brass couldn’t decide what they wanted us to do, specifically. Set up a better government in Randaynia? Evacuate slaves? Re-educate the people? Win them over? Exterminate the bosses and their lapdogs? Who was a lapdog? Any slave trainer? Any slave owner? Anyone with a weapon who didn’t put it down? It changed week to week.” I shuddered at that thought, wondering how many people like my parents had been bolted or dealt with like them because they hadn’t been able to smuggle their slaves out like my parents had Vanessa. Ash seemed to read it on my face and shrugged. “As you can tell, we didn’t make much progress because none of us really understood Randaynia. We learned slowly but surely but once we found out that the devastation we were causing was consigning people to slavery or death en masse instead of destabilizing the local regime, there were a lot of calls to pull out everyone we’d rescued and fight a retreat, especially once the plutocrats put aside their differences and sent all nine merc armies and that huge horde of conscripts at us at once.”

I nodded. That made a little too much sense. Beckett and I both remembered the days when we’d been kept safe by Arcadian troops, shuttled from one refugee camp to another, educated some days and then shoved onto wagons and evacuated while the Arcadians swarmed around a camp loading crossbows and readying blades for a counterthrust.

Then he smiled. “As to the Plutocrat, we dragged him and his inner circle out of their little HQ and well….if that’s the one who owned the territory we rescued you from, the one who ordered your parents’ deaths died against a wall, begging for mercy until the moment we bolted him.” A dark look passed over his face, and I realized that for all he clearly wasn’t proud of everything he’d done as a soldier, he certainly hadn’t regretted that part.

I nodded. “That is surprisingly gratifying. So how far away is the delver camp?”

“Given the co-ordinates on the message they sent, it’s about a day and a half from where we are now. We’ll get a day or so of turnover time to recover from the ride before we finish it.”

“Sounds good. So who’s doing the cooking when we stop to camp for the night?”

He gestured at himself with his damaged hand. “Me, tonight. Tomorrow it’s going to be you. When we get to the delver camp it’s going to be them, though we’ll probably forage a little on the way and maybe hunt a bit, give them some extra food to share around the fire.”

That actually sounded pretty good. “Alright, Ash. You have any more questions for me?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Not for today, River. We’ll get through this little trip, and you’ll have a chance to look for what’s left of your family.”


	7. Recovered Texts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitors meet with Delvers, River grapples with the boring part of the job - then shit starts

**River**

“Wait, so our job is to go through over a hundred books, checking them against the lists we have of heretical and approved texts, and if it appears on neither list, we have to read the whole thing through to determine if its acceptable.” That was insane. That was completely, and utterly fucking insane. I knew I was going to have to do it and I was looking over the lists stuck in the back of the Inquisitorial edition of Whispers of the Earth, but Gaia that was going to be boring.

Right now we were sitting by the campfire. Last night Ash had made some fairly decent stew out of a bit of dried meat and a few scavenged roots, and I was hoping to impress with what I could manage with a few dried veggies and the rabbit I’d managed to shoot from the saddle earlier. The thing had been cleanly dressed and the meat was frying on the little clay skillet we’d been given, along with the vegetables. Once the food was cooked clean through, I nodded to Ash, who produced a short dagger from his sleeve, one with a grip obviously designed to be handled with his wounded hand. He spiked a little meat and nibbled it quickly, flashing me a broad grin. “Well, that’s that worry taken care of. You’ll never go hungry on the road.” I flushed, and Ash chucked. “Not making fun. You’d be surprised how valuable a skill it is to be able to cook in the life of a Raven.”

I grinned, shyly. “Right. I learned how to cook from my parents, ages ago. Never cooked fresh-shot rabbit before, though.” I glanced at him. “How common is it to have to hunt small game on the road, for this job?”

He shrugged, lazily. “Not very, but common enough that Inquisitors get bows that can work for hunting or fighting. We can practice archery, though I confess I’m actually not all that good at it. Got comfortable with one of the lever-drawn crossbows and never really got the hang of the recurve I’m using now.” His damaged left hand twitched a little, and he cleared his throat as he began scrubbing the slate clean. “Get some rest, we’ll be there tomorrow.”

***

We arrived only a few hours after waking up the next day, which led me to wonder why we’d stopped when we had, until I saw Ash moving with a visible limp after he dismounted from his horse and we began approaching the Delvers. The people excavating the old building were in common work tunics and boots, looking relaxed until they saw us approach, at which point they stood up and Ash gave that casual wave of his that indicated all but the person in charge could relax. A woman, with short cropped hair and a blue and pink scarf held out a calloused hand. “Reyna. I take it you’re the Inquisitors who were going to be going through this shit?” She sounded a little suspicious as Ash took her hand and shook it, as though she resented the idea of Inquisitors looking through things her team had discovered – not that I blamed her.

“Yeah, that’s correct. Good to meet you.” Ash’s smile was easy, friendly, and his voice wasn’t hostile. “My name’s Ash Roanoake, this is my apprentice, River Damien.” Reyna looked a lot more cheerful as she shook my hand than she had when she shook Ash’s. I understood why as I leaned back and smiled at her.

“Reyna isn’t an Arcadian name, is it?”

She shook her head. “Unless I’m mistaken, Damien isn’t an Arcadian surname. It’s always good to see younger refugees who got out of that shithole. Pre or Post Crusade?”

“Post. You?” It was a common enough question amongst at least some refugee groups I’d talked to during the six years since I’d come to Arcadia. She smiled, sadly. “Pre. One of the very few ex-debt-slaves who got smuggled across the border by the person who bought the debt, believe it or not. Lot of the boys are refugees too.” I whistled. That was pretty lucky. “Got dragged out of there by Guard. So we’re supposed to be going through the texts for you, apparently.”

Reyna nodded once as we moved past and began sifting through the texts. There were more than a few data keys, apparently containing books and texts of their own, which Ash quickly pocketed. “Hey, don’t worry about those. While you’re checking the refugee files, I’ll load this into one of the restored terminals in a library.” I had been told that that was pretty common, that the overwhelming majority of books weren’t copied, just found, and many others from before the calamity but after the end of book printing were only available on the restored terminals of the Arcadian libraries. Ash was flicking his eyes between the stack of books he was looking at and the list, quickly finding titles that were approved and loading them into a wagon. One of the titles he found met his obvious disapproval. The author was L. Ron Hubbard, who I hadn’t heard of but when Ash grunted. “Holy text of a dead faith. Unsubstantiated Deity, one even the author didn’t believe in beyond as a way to make money. Pre-calamity civilization allowed religions to be run for profit.”

I shrugged. That did seem like a mistake, and I’d had more than enough money-grubbing assholes in my life. “What kinds of things did the religion do?”

“Lot of abuse, lot of unpaid labor.” Ash had a strange look on his face, but it vanished fast enough that I wasn’t sure I’d seen it. I checked a few more books – a Harry Potter, that was fine, a few things that according to the list had been considered “classics” pre-Calamity but that were now used in Arcadian classrooms as part of the explanation why things in the Old World had died, such as Lord of the Flies or Great Gatsby. The work was mind-numbingly boring, but I was eventually finished checking through the long list of books and after finding only one banned text, we loaded the approved ones on a wagon and packed the heretical ones in our bags. There had been a few not on the list that we retained, with the acknowledgement that these would be taken to the Circle of Faith to check over, and if nothing was found amiss, they’d be delivered.

It had been midmorning when we started, by the time we’d finished, we were working by the light of the campfire in the evening. Ash hadn’t been kidding about this being a really boring part of inquisitorial work. Still, the Delvers were looking at us with a sense of respect, and keeping their distance, which I liked in a way – meant they weren’t going to try to pry to deep into what my life had been before the Crusade.

Then Ash ruined that by handing them a few of the things we’d foraged on the way. “Want to share some food?”

Reyna nodded and gestured for both of us to sit down on the little concrete hulks they’d been using as benches around a fire. “Sure.” I sat down, quiet, and Reyna asked Ash a question. “So, I thought you Ravens were more standoffish.” Ash gave a quiet bark of laughter, one that flickered into pain as his weight shifted slightly.

“Not really. Being able to talk to people is part of the job.” He glanced my way and gave a small smile. “So, River, how are you liking the first day on the actual job?”

I flushed. “Not too bad so far. Like the travel. Paperwork seems boring.” Reyna chuckled.

“Sounds like someone just learning the ropes. Not too bad, though, right?” I shrugged. Ash nodded like a fencer at Reyna, then asked her how she had enjoyed Delver training.

“Scorch me, that was years ago. Must have gotten yelled at a dozen times for pulling things I shouldn’t have pulled. But you manage. Just a matter a’ time.” I nodded, and Ash stood up. “River, while we’re waiting for food, we need to attend our usual sparring.” I glanced around. “In front of…”

He nodded. “Yeah. Every day. Come on, if I can do it, so can you.” I forced myself to my feet and caught the sparring sword he tossed at me. He drew the wooden replica of his own saber, and got into a basic guard position, and we both shuffled away from the fire before beginning. It was fast – a whirling series of strikes and parries, but for a moment I thought I had the upper hand. He pressed against me when our blades locked, and for a moment I tried to hold my ground, and when I saw that he was about to do what he usually did when I tried that, I gave ground right when his fist would have struck my torso and made him stumble forward, striking him in the stomach with my own weapon and knocking the breath out of him.

He held up a hand. “Nice work. First time you’ve beaten me without working to my weak side. And better yet, you learned your lesson about giving ground a little, not trying to blade lock against someone bigger. That strike would’ve gutted me with your actual sword.” He stood up and offered his hand. “Good work, apprentice. Your swordsmanship is coming along really well.”

I felt cheeks flush a little. It was genuine praise, and not like the kind from the bad times back in Randayna. Ash was praising me for having beaten him fair and square after soundly thrashing me every time I’d tried before. The Delvers were looking on, clearly pretty impressed, and I was feeling pretty smug.

Then an arrow with a flaming trail hissed into the camp, and Ash swore as it caught one of the delvers in the chest. As the rest scrambled for cover he shouted, “Scorch me, ambush! Get in cover!” He shoved me behind one of the screwed up concrete pillars we’d made camp near and contemptuously glowered as fire arrows cracked against the stone. I was still dazed from seeing the sudden shift. One minute that man had been fine and now he was kicking and thrashing with an arrow in his chest.

**Ash**

My apprentice had frozen up under fire, which made sense. My own palms were sweating and my stumps were itching like mad. A few more fire arrows cracked against the pillars we were hiding behind and I finally made out the markings on them. “Poisoned Sky, Nihilons.”

River looked at me in a daze. “What?”

I whistled for Quincy and told her to do the same for her own horse. They weren’t going to expose themselves coming to us, and we needed our bows. “They’re a radical sect of the Faith who decided that everything from the Old World is madness better forgotten.” As Quincy came close I scrambled to pull my bow from the saddle straps with my damaged hand, finally freeing it and a few arrows. At least the damn Delvers were finally in cover. “Well, River. Looks like we’re getting in some proper archery practice after all.”


	8. Ambush!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash demonstrates exactly why it is that his swordplay is such a big part of his reputation.

**River**

My hands were shaking as I knocked an arrow to the string and saw Ash do the same, his damaged hand being used to hold the nocking while his right hand gripped the bow. “Only step from behind the pillar for a second to release.” He stepped around, arrow fully drawn, and loosed, immediately ducking back behind the pillar as more arrows clattered off the concrete. I stepped out from behind my own and sent my arrow winging at one of the little flickers of firelight from a fresh-lit enemy arrow and slammed myself back behind it as a few more flame arrows streaked past and the horses whinnied in panic, even as the man I’d shot at let loose a gurgling scream. Ash knocked another arrow and fired again, and I heard the arrow clatter off into the ruined buildings. A few of the delvers had crossbows, but they were clearly lighter-weight weapons, meant for hunting, not combat. I tried to get another arrow off and had to duck back behind the pillar sooner than I meant to.

“How are they shooting so fast?”

“More of them, and they’re working together.” He waved sharply to the delvers. “Volley over there if you can.” They let a flurry of bolts loose at the building indicated, a few of them seeming to strike flesh from the pained howls, and then Ash himself stepped out from his cover and fired again, grinning with a brutal satisfaction as he heard the grunt of an arrow piercing chest, and the rapid pounding footsteps of a group of people retreating. Ash signaled me to fire again, to keep them running and I loosed in the general direction of the people who’d attacked us, then slowly slumped down behind the derelict column and started breathing hard. That had…I’d killed at least one person, possibly two. Ash was chuckling a bit from the fight. “Everyone alright? Sound off!”

Reyna came back. “We have one man dead, two wounded, only lightly.” Ash nodded, then pulled a roll of gauze from his saddlebag and a small jar of some kind of herbal mixture. “Antiseptic.” He pulled out a bit of suture, and he glanced at her. “I can patch them up if you need me to. They teach us a bit of field medicine in the inquisition.”

She shook her head. “It’s just burns, Raven. The antiseptic and the gauze are all they’ll need.” He nodded and went to go tend to them, while I just stared at the dead delver. He’d been alive a few minutes ago, and now he was dead, his body slightly burned, blood caking his lips from when he’d coughed it up. Reyna was running over to check the wagons where we’d loaded the books, and by sheer chance it seemed we’d kept them at an angle to the ambush that our attackers hadn’t managed to hit them. I was shaking a little bit by the time that Ash came back.

I had seen death before. My brother and I had found our parents bodies after they were murdered. Hell, I’d seen people die, when Ash’s Guard Squad had cut down the assholes who’d been hired to train us as slaves. I said as much to Ash, and he replied, “Right, but have you ever killed before?”  
That stopped me. I hadn’t. I…

He made as if to grab my hand, then stopped himself, remembering what I’d said about being touched. “I…haven’t.”

“It’s hard, the first time. It doesn’t really get easier, but let me help you out a little. They were trying to kill us. You doing what you did made us more likely to survive. They were using incendiary weapons with no regard to who might be hurt by it or how far the fire might spread. I don’t know if what you did was right – that’s an answer you’ll have to find for yourself – but you did what you had to do.”

I shuddered a little and grabbed his hand. He looked shocked but recovered quickly, guess it was hard to surprise a veteran inquisitor. I got a little reassuring squeeze, and he held it until I nodded and he let go, standing up slowly, pushing on his left leg first. “You going to be okay, River?”

I wasn’t totally sure, but I made myself nod. I wasn’t going to let him think I couldn’t handle this. “Yeah. What happens now?”

He reached into his bag and pulled out Whispers of the Earth. “Now we have to preform last rights for the Delver who died, and then any of the enemy whose bodies we can find.” I slowly stood up and we went to the first body, and he recited a quiet prayer.

“Mother Gaia, I ask that this man be taken into your blessed womb and allowed rebirth in aspect of our sacred world, that the cycle of life be kind to your child who fell prey too soon to its end. His family grieve and his friends wish him peace. In the name of your children, a Druid begs your compassion and forbearance, Earth Mother, that this man may return to you and us in due time through your grace.” He crouched down and closed the man’s sightless eyes and kissed him on the forehead, making the sign of the Oak over the body before whispering, “Wander home.” The prayer wasn’t bombastic, it was a simple statement of faith that asked peace for an innocent man we’d seen die.

He went around blessing the bodies of our attackers, saving the one I’d brought down for last. I felt a pang of jealousy as I watched the sense of peace come over his face – he seemed so sure of it all. I was still shaking a bit when I got to the last man with him and Ash glanced gently at me and said, “Would you like to do the blessings on this one?”

I nodded, then imitated the prayer I’d seen him preform for a fallen enemy. It was much the same as a prayer for a fallen friend, with the exception that it added a line about “forgiving wayward wanderers the sins that had brought them down too soon.” I thought about that line. It seemed odd to pray in such a way for someone I killed, like he’d killed himself rather than it being my arrow, but then…

Ash crouched, wincing, and gave the forehead kiss and closed the man’s eyes before recovering my arrow and handing it back to me with a sickening sucking sound as he pulled it free of flesh. I slid it back into the quiver, and he nodded to me, warmly. “Well done. Let’s get back to the horses. We’ll start traveling with the Delvers. At a later date, we’ll deputize a squad of the Guard to seek out the Nihilon coven in the area and deal with it.” His tone indicated that he might as well be discussing snaking out a clogged drain – unpleasant work, but nothing to become upset over, just a task in need of completion.

“Doesn’t the killing bother you, Ash?” The question left my lips before I had thought it through, and from the look on his face, it was something I shouldn’t have asked.

**Ash**

River’s question took me aback. Did killing bother me? It did, but not as much as it had during the Crusade. Ironically, seeing the scars my apprentice had at various points on her body from what those barbarians had done to her when she was a helpless child had actually made the slaughter I’d committed back then almost entirely justified in my eyes now. “It does. I take no joy in doing things like this. But when dealing with a death cult like the Nihilons, it’s just something that needs to be done before they hurt anyone.”

I gestured back at the Delver camp, where the body of the man who’d been killed in the ambush was being buried. “Come on, River. We need to get moving.” Maybe I had become a little too cold. That fight with Eckhart had certainly…

“She’s a lie. A lie they came up with after the Calamity to make sure people wouldn’t cause another one.”

That was still echoing in my head. The Nihilons were a heretical sect of Gaia, and if Gaia was a lie, that meant that not only were the awful things I’d done unjustified, it meant that the horrible things they did were the result of a lie. I shoved that thought out of my head. Eckhart’s words and delusion would die with me, as they should have died with him. “Anyway. We should be ready to go pretty – DUCK!”

  
I shoved her down and ducked myself as another arrow, one I had only spotted for a split second, streaked past and a few more cultists rushed to attack us from the shadows of the buildings and the brush. I caught a hatchet haft on the flat of my sword and brought the blade down the haft, severing fingers in a way that made my own stumps ache with unwanted sympathy before swiping across my assailant’s throat and wheeling to engage a few others. River had drawn her own sword and was attempting to get to her feet, barely fighting against two armed men bearing down on her. I slashed one of my attackers across the belly in a sidestep and strike, and beheaded him as he started howling and his entrails started sliding out over his knees. I shoulder checked another man out of the way and swatted the weapon from his grip, then began moving to assist River – still fighting two heretics, though now there was a dead one not far from her that she’d clearly cut down when another armed woman had joined the fight.

I ran towards my apprentice only to be tackled by the man I’d just knocked aside, who’d produced an ugly hunting knife pitted with rust and was attempting to dig it into me. I was pushing against it with my right arm, keeping it out of my flesh, and feeling his other hand tighten around my throat. I fumbled with my left hand until I finally felt the slender hilt of my holdout knife bruising my fingers and ripped it free of the sleeve to swipe across my attacker’s throat right as I was starting to see spots. I ripped my sword from the grass where it had fallen and charged towards my beleaguered apprentice, who had planted her sword between the ribs of a second attacker but was being pinned by a third, only to be distractingly engaged yet again, by a Nihilon woman who lasted only an instant before I planted my saber firmly in her heart and threw her body aside, finally closing with the brute who’d brought my apprentice to a grapple and slashing his throat with a practiced contempt before kicking the body off her.

My apprentice was visibly shaken as I offered her a hand to help her to her feet, and she shook her head and slowly sat up. “Was he trying to – “ I shook my head. “No, I promise he was trying to strangle you, not sexually assault you.”

She was still shaking and I paused, not quite sure how to proceed. “River, you’re okay. He didn’t. You’re still alive.”  
“I almost wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but I was here. And honestly this was a way more intense fight than any I got into as an apprentice. Storms, it was a bit more intense than the first few skirmishes I’d had in the Guard.” I slowly eased down to sit next to her when I realized that my usual solution to any emotional shake up of ignoring it until I got to somewhere safe to mediate was probably not the one to teach her. “You’re okay, River. Or if you’re not, I’ll sit with you until you are.”

She gripped my wrist hard enough that her knuckles turned white and I knew I was going to have bruises. “Thanks for being here today.” There were a number of optional responses I had to that from the flippant to the earnest to the ritual.

I settled on earnest. “You’re my apprentice, River. I intend to watch out for you as long as I’m training you, and well past that as well.” I was furious in a way I couldn’t quite remember being since the Crusade, but that might have just been the shock and fear of seeing my apprentice triggered, mixed with the rush of blood and adrenaline from the fight. For all my concern for River and that I didn’t much care for killing, there was a part of me exulting in the fact that my fears for my ability in a fight – fears that hadn’t quite abated for years after my wounding – seemed to be entirely unfounded. Sure, I wasn’t as lethal as I’d been back in the military, but I was still demonstrably superb as a swordsman. I gently held River’s hand to reassure her, but it wasn’t the way lovers hold hands, but the way a parent holds the hand of a frightened child – or even a young person who needs support from someone they trust who’s seen more than they have. Once she composed herself, I spoke the quick prayers over the bodies and recovered my sword.

“Well, that’s another thing to add to the list – we’re both going to need to take a shower at the next settlement we stop at to get the blood off.” Her voice was shaky, but there was a sort of humor beneath that belied a person clearly forcing themselves back on track.

We got into the saddles and began traveling back north, the wagonload of books and the Delvers along with us. The delvers weren’t as social as they’d been before the fight – shock of losing a friend, maybe. Or maybe they were afraid of us, as it wasn’t common that two faced seven and came out victorious. I was still a bit surprised myself – Gaia had definitely favored us by granting me that glimpse of the man who’d attempted to take us by surprise as he’d moved around. When he missed, he’d come out of the shadows to join the brawl and failed again.

I looked at my apprentice, who was clearly dealing with flashbacks, and reigned Quincy back to trot alongside her and Daisy. “River.” I spoke, trying to distract her. “Your swordsmanship was excellent. And you were able to take three on one without me, and only needed my help when the last one sucker-punched you. That’s pretty impressive. You should be proud.”

She was quiet. I tried again. “When we get to the library, you can start your research and try to find Vera. We’ll make sure to visit her if you do.”

More silence.

“River. You’re going to be okay.”

**River.**

We’d gotten attacked a second time and I got to see Ash use his sword in earnest. Never let his bad hip fool you, the man is absolutely lethal. I was feeling pretty good about how I’d handled myself until that one guy had slammed me to the ground and started choking me. It had brought up a lot of shitty memories from my time with those sick bastards back when, and the memories were still flashing when I closed my eyes, even after Ash killed the prick.

Ash suddenly sitting down next to me, even as I sat up covered in gore, was strangely reassuring. His face was remote but he held out a hand in case I needed support, and I seized his hand hard. I had almost died, and I would have if he hadn’t been there. His words about what would have happened were oddly reassuring, but even so…

I thanked him for helping me, and he said something genuinely kind. His face was that strangely unexpressive mask it always was, but the tone was reassuring, fatherly, almost. When I got up and saddled Daisy again, and we started riding North, I was fine to sit in silence, listening to the delvers talk about how Ash and I had fought in quiet murmurs. His attempts to make conversation grated, but he eventually took the hint after I nodded at him in response to a direct question.

We went north, the bodies of our attackers gathering dust and crows behind us, but we’d come out alive. And as Ash pointed out, I had something to look forward to.


	9. Archives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and River arrive at the Archives, the world is expanded upon

**River**

I had finally stopped shaking when we got to Bay Hills. Ash had been talking up my swordplay quite a lot, and while he’d been pretty clear that I shouldn’t get cocky, the way he said it, and the other praise he’d heaped on my performance in that fight, had certainly made it clear that he was proud of me. I’d killed three people, and he was proud of my talent at fighting.

When we got to the outskirts of Bay Hills we were intercepted by a patrol of the Guard, who let us pass once we’d identified ourselves. I had to remind myself as they approached that the Arcadian Guard weren’t the same as the mercenaries who patrolled Randaynia looking for runaway slaves, anyone who tried to strike, or anyone who spoke against the bosses. Still, having six armed people approach and demand identification from any group of people on the road was a little daunting.

Pulling out the painted Emerald Eyes to show the older guard Guard corporal and seeing him salute me and Ash, then do a double take at my mentor. “Ash, that you?”

My mentor blinked. “Tobias? You stayed in the Guard? Thought you would have left.”

The soldier coughed. “Tobi, now.” Ash grunted. “Oh?”

“Yeah, non-binary.”

Ash nodded. “Good to see you again. Would have thought you’d have been promoted by now though.” Ah, queer things. That had been a culture shock, how open it was in Arcadia. “The Scorch are you still doing as a squad leader? You have a full crusade under your belt and how many years of patrol? Shouldn’t you be running a company by this point?”

Tobi grunted. “Ash, look. I admired you when you were a sergeant but after the amount of time you and I spent bitching about officers why would I ever have wanted to be one?”

“Right, right, forgot, you never wound up under Abe. Not all of them are all bad. Anyway. My apprentice and I have to go deal with something, but if you’re available you and I can meet up for lunch and a shot of that fruit rum they brew around here.”

The other old soldier smiled wistfully as I wondered who my mentor hadn’t met, then shook his head. “Nah. Gonna be on patrol for a few days. Hit me up next time you’re in town though.”

Ash nodded. “Pity. May the ground you walk be soft and gentle.” It was a common Druid’s blessing, one that seemed a little formal, until Ash grinned and swapped grips, and then offered him a farewell that I’d heard from soldiers. “And if you meet trouble…give it back.”

“Twice as hard.” Ash grinned and patted Quincy gently as she started by

After the soldiers walked away, Ash turned back to me. “Tobi…they’re a good friend of mine.” I was thinking about the meeting, a little wistful. I wondered if any of the friends I’d had in Randaynia were still alive, or still free, or both. I hadn’t heard from them once I became a slave – probably because once you’re screwed there, they don’t tell anyone who knew you before anything – and obviously I hadn’t been free before the Crusade, which by Ash’s admission had kinda turned wild partway through and just started wrecking Randaynia. Hopefully they hadn’t screwed my old friends over.

Speaking of old friends, I was shortly going to find Vanessa, the adoptive older sister that we’d smuggled across the Arcadian border. We rode into the town and helped the delvers offload the books, where Ash stopped to chat with one of the loaders, and then gave Reyna his calling card so that she’d be able to have messages sent to him at any temple where the Inquisition had quarters.

“Why do you do that, anyway?”

He looked at me, confused. Then it clicked for him. “Oh, because it’s important to have as many contacts as you can in this job. People who know and trust you will usually inform you if something that requires Inquisitorial attention starts happening, and having a net of people who are willing to do that makes you more effective – and more importantly, gives you a lot of leeway to go running around. Something I think you’ll appreciate in this line of work.” I was left thinking about that as he swept past and made sure the Delvers got paid, then walked me into the massive library. “Alright, show the librarian your Eyes and tell them you need access to a netlinked refugee affair terminal. I’ll go check on the data keys.”

I was bouncing as I nodded. “Got it.”

**Ash**

I left my apprentice to pursue her own projects. It probably would have been better to follow up but at some point I was going to need to demonstrate that I trusted her, and I couldn’t do that if I went looking over her shoulder all the time. I plugged in the data keys a few at a time and found out that they contained mostly children’s media, though there were a few decent pre-Calamity sci fi bits. _Citizen of the Galaxy, Last Command, Tiger Squadron, Spider Robinson, The Miys, Heir to the Empire_ …this had been a good find. There was another that contained the series of _Neon Genesis Evangelion_ and _Puella Magi Madoka Magicka_. I took the labelling tools to stamp the keys and in a moment I was turning them over to the librarian.

“Inquisitor. I trust these memory keys met with approval?” I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She raised an eyebrow. “Inquisitor, I see that you’ve written down the contents of these for the purposes of archiving and labelled them, but, um. You can’t simply label a memory key “Mind Screw Anime” and archive it that way.”

I blinked, mildly annoyed, but librarians and the archives they kept were a little too important to go snarking off the way I wanted to. “Ma’am, have you seen either media piece on that data key?”

“Don’t ma’am me, the name is Cassie. And no, I haven’t. Have you seen an actual archiving system any time recently, Raven?”

I wasn’t sure why that sounded like a threat, especially since Cassie was all of five feet tall, and looked like she hadn’t been much of a fighter even in her youth. Then again she was obviously pretty smart – archiving was a fairly critical role in Arcadia and only the brightest got to actually run libraries. And I’d had enough smart enemies over the years to know I didn’t want to make any more. “Apologies for my arrogance, Librarian. The media on that key are unique and I truly wasn’t quite sure how else to describe them, as they do incorporate psychological twists that are known to have mental health effects with some frequency.”

She grunted and rolled her eyes. “I’m aware, I’ve seen them. I don’t tell you how to check texts and deal with heretics, Inquisitor, don’t tell me how to archive.” She replaced the tag with something less humorous but more professional. I intertwined my fingers and bowed in a sign of respect and concession. “Apologies, Librarian. A bad joke shouldn’t have been offered as proper archiving.”

Cassie laughed a little, and I realized she was far younger than I’d thought – only thirty or so. “The joke was good, talking down was the mistake. Anyway, Inquisitor,” I shook my head, “Just Ash.”

“Inquisitor Ash,” she said, her eyes daring me to argue. “Thank you for the deliveries. May I ask what your apprentice is looking for in the refugee files?”

“People she lost contact with after she was rescued. Exactly as they’re intended to be used. Normally she’d just have to get an Archivist to find them for her and fill out the forms, but given that she’s an Inquisitor…”

Cassie nodded and shook hands with me, her slender wrists packing a surprising amount of force. Then she palmed the card that was still in my hand. “I’ll be in touch if I find anything of use to you. See you if I need your input.”

Her tone was dismissive, but I couldn’t help enjoy it. It wasn’t often enough that people told the Inquisition to fuck off. Reassuring, in a way – it meant that the mystery idiot Adept who kept scaring people hadn’t been here.

River

I was looking through the massive tomes regarding refugees who’d made it over after the crusade. They were maintained, even this many years later, and kept up to date in hopes of reuniting lost families that had been torn apart by war or desperate flight from Randaynia. I finally found my family’s name, with myself listed as “age 13 at time of arrival, adopted by Circle of Faith, currently Apprentice in the Circle of Inquisition,” and my brother, Beckett, listed as “age 17 at time of arrival, adopted by Circle of Faith, current Sergeant in the Arcadian Guard, eastern Sierra garrison.”

I glanced around the record and read carefully, agonizingly. Vera had never given me her last name. What had it been? What was it? I kept reading, frantically to find my lost adoptive sister.

Where are you? I took a deep breath and kept scanning. The refugees were alphabetized, but they were also listed by date of arrival. My parents smuggled her over about four years before their deaths, and been agonizingly careful to make sure she’d wound up in safe hands. What had her last name been? Landon, that was it. Arcadians kept a different calendar than Randaynia did, and I eventually figured out where she would have been. She hadn’t been totally sure she wanted to go, but she could be safer and get an actual education like she deserved in Arcadia. I still wasn’t sure why my parents didn’t just take all five of us across the border and place ourselves in protective custody – probably weren’t sure if it would have been safe for us to go to Arcadia.

I kept looking through the refugee files, again mildly unsettled by how close an eye they kept on all of us. There was no way they weren’t worried about us causing trouble if they kept this meticulous a record. Vanessa Landon… age 17 at time of arrival…right age. Adopted by Fletchers, a family ours had had some friendly business relation with before the war had cut all contact between Arcadia and Randaynia. Vera was listed as being “currently in the Crests, working as a social worker.”

I linked my fingers and gave thanks to Gaia. I didn’t know why I’d done so, I wasn’t certain how much I believed Gaia was real and how much I believed She was just a necessary lie, but in this moment, if Vera had really found safety and security she’d deserved here and was finally living a dream she’d wanted, maybe Gaia really was real, maybe she really did watch over this land.

Both my brother and my adoptive sister were alive. And Ash had promised to bring me by for visits with both of them. I wrote down the information, then looked at the map I’d been issued. The Crests were a series of communities in the northeastern edges of Arcadia, almost a month’s ride away from where we were now, over a few of the wastes that weren’t really safe to travel through, partly because of bandits, partly because of mudslides, especially this time of year.

I didn’t figure on visiting her or Beckett any time soon, but Ash had promised and now I knew they were both okay. I headed out towards the rest of the archives to help Ash, then noticed the clock – it had taken me far longer than I thought to run down the information. When I went to the desk, the Librarian told me that my mentor had checked in the memory keys we’d recovered, read some old book for a while, then gone back to the temple in the area to meditate and rest.

I saddled up and rode to the temple, dismounting to find him in the stables as well, gently finishing brushing out Quincy’s coat and cleaning out her hooves. I started doing the same as Ash watched with a critical, keen eye. Once I finished, he asked me the question I finally had an answer to.

“Did you find what you were hoping to?”

I nodded. “Yes. She’s in the Crests. My brother is in the Sierra Garrison. When could we visit them?”

Ash paused. “Not sure yet. Before the year is out, you’ll see both of them. That is the best I can promise. I’ll do my best to get us assignments that will take us to those places, though. In the meantime, follow me.” I followed him, eager and jittering with glee, when he sat down in the small, quiet chamber in the temple and began meditating. I began speaking up, and he held up a hand.

“I know. I know you probably won’t need the meditation we were told to do tonight. But it’s a bad rhythm to break.” I opened my mouth, then closed it. For all his scars, Ash seemed to carry his own bad memories easier than I did. Maybe there was something to what he was doing. I sat down on the simple oaken bench next to him and planted my feet firmly on the grassy floor.

“Breathe deep, apprentice. Seek your peace. You found something wonderful today in the archives of the world. Let’s see if we can make the archives of your mind easier to bear.”


	10. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and River start asking hard questions.

**Ash**

I was trying to clear my head of the swirling doubts that had plagued me since…Crusade, Eckhart, talking with River about how her family had been, and the skirmish with the Nihilons. River was doing her morning meditation, having slept in this morning and having to catch up. I had done so when I woke and was now doing a part of the job.

I had marked the area where we’d been attacked by the Nihilons on the map and was handing it to a garrison commander of the Arcadian Guard, while writing out a death warrant for those miserable cultists. _In Gaia’s holy name, I, Mentor Ash Roanoke of the Druidic Circle of Inquisition, hereby order the extermination of a Nihilon Circle at the marked location and charge the Guard with carrying it out. No quarter is to be offered, no prisoners taken. For the good of Arcadia’s people and by the will of Our Worldly Mother, they are marked for annihilation._

I fixed the warrant with the seal of the Inquisition. I never liked that part of the job. Then again, it was Nihilons, who truly believed that mass death and the elimination of the human species was within Gaia’s will. The Guard commander saw the seals of the Circle and saluted. “Her will be done.” I nodded. “Good luck soldier, and good hunting.”

I walked out of the room, staring calmly ahead, and once I had left, I sought out my apprentice and took a moment to pray for the young soldiers I had just ordered into battle, possibly to their deaths, as well as the damage that the Nihilons would do if they were left unchecked – they were no strangers to attacks of terror on towns and farms – but signing an extermination warrant was always a hateful task. I was jolted out of my reflection when River coughed, having finished her meditation and noticed my return. “Ash, I have a question.”

I didn’t open my eyes. “Ask away, River.”

“A potentially heretical one.”

I opened my eyes fully and waved a hand. “You’re an inquisitor, your job is to understand things fully enough not only to identify heresy but to know when it’s actually dangerous and when it isn’t. Ask.”

“What exactly do the Nihilons believe? I get the idea that they’re a death cult, but I don’t know what else they are.”

“Right. So they essentially are a heretical sect of the Gaian faith that believes humanity itself is a poison and a blight on earth, one that can only be allowed to exist as tiny, scattered groups lest we become populous enough to poison her again.”

“Sounds like they reinvented the “those strong enough to survive may thrive, those too weak to do so will serve the strong” from first principles to me.”

My jaw dropped, and I tried to think of something suitable to say in response to the fact that my apprentice understood the perversion of similarity between the Nihilons and the Oligarchs of Randaynia…similarities that neither side would ever acknowledge.

**River**

Ash smiled faintly as he answered, and I could tell by the look on his face that he was impressed. It seemed obvious to me, but I guess most new inquisitors had been Gaians all their lives, which meant that their consideration of superficially different worldviews would be pretty limited. Then again, maybe Inquisitors were the ones who did understand all that, they had to.

“River, you’re going to make a truly excellent Inquisition Druid with that kind of fundamental understanding, I just want to tell you that. I’m proud of you.” I flushed a little, then shook myself. Why was I reacting like that to praise? That kind of statement used to infuriate me.

Then again, that kind of statement used to apply to me doing what other people wanted as opposed to showing promise in a thing that I had chosen, and Ash was my mentor, not my trainer. He’d told me he could find a psychologist if I needed one after the fight, but I’d been okay. “Hey, Ash, I have another question: I remember you telling me that if an ex-Guardsman wants to join the Inquisition they have to submit the service journals for the Inquisition to check over to make sure that they aren’t morally suspect.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Right, and your service journals would have included my name and description, right? I mean, I saw a few of Beckett’s when I visit him.”

“Not necessarily, I confess I don’t actually know if I wrote your names down and there was a lot going on for me.”

I nodded, then pressed the point. “Okay, but I remember being talked to by your commander, that Abe guy? And putting in his unit name when I was processed by the refugee managers, when they were figuring out what units were supposed to be rotated into guard duty for the refugee camps.”

Ash glanced at me. “What are you getting at, River?”

“Just that if all of that is on record…how sure are you that my being your apprentice was a mistake? I mean, in the “someone didn’t know,” sense. I’m actually pretty happy with who I got placed with.” Ash’s face betrayed no emotion, but his damaged hand twitched.

Then he took a deep breath in and I saw about eighteen different emotions play across his face – I had come to realize he didn’t hide much around me, even if he did around others – but he forced them all down, hard, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “You raise an interesting point, River. Why don’t the two of us make it a point to ask about that next time we’re back at the Temple?”

I nodded, and I could tell from the look in his eyes he was actually planning on asking all the questions – and taking all the risks of punishment for doing so – himself. I nodded a little bit, and then he stood up and pulled out the sparring swords. “Alright, quick bout, then we’ll get on the road.”

“Again?”

He nodded. “Every day, until you can beat me consistently.”

I felt as though that was patently absurd – by all accounts he’d been one of the finest swordsmen the Guard had seen before his maiming, and even now he was probably in the top two or three blades in the Inquisition. And if our fight with the Nihilons had proven anything, it was that he held back quite a bit while we were training. “How is that even remotely realistic given…”  
He grinned a little. “I don’t know. I think you’ve got the talent for it. But even if you never quite manage it, practicing every day will make you an amazing fighter – which will be enough.”

An hour of raising welts on each other later, and picking myself up from the dirt – though getting a few good strikes on Ash too, which always felt good – I was stiffly climbing into Daisy’s saddle and getting ready to go. “So, where are we headed?”

Ash’s reply was relaxed, despite the wince he always had right when he first swung into the saddle. “Right now, we’re going to go inspect one of the new schools that’s been built for the communities in the Eastern Sierra.”  
“Wait, why are we going to inspect a school? Isn’t that a job for the Education Stewards?” I was confused and a bit alarmed, how much did the Inquisition actually control?

“Yes, but we occasionally provide oversight to make sure things are being done right. There have been some suspicions of how a few things are being done that look like someone’s decided to embezzle resources meant for students, and the Stewardship has respectfully requested of the Circle that a few Inquisition Druids be sent – not because anyone’s committing heresy, but because proper educations are vital to making good citizens of Arcadia and people who understand the importance of the Gaian teachings.” That made a little more sense – it was a politically convenient way to root out corruption and graft. My mentor was continuing, cheerfully. “So we’re going over to shake some things up and look in on a few things – and while we’re there, you might as well get to visit your brother. We’ll only be a few hours’ ride from the barracks where he’s stationed. Sgt. Beckett Pamela, right? 14th Arcadian Guard?”

I gasped. Beck had changed his name not long after enlisting to match up with our adoptive parents. “You bothered looking up my brother? And…we can visit him this week?”

Ash gave me a sardonic smile. “What kind of horses do you think we’re riding, apprentice? It’ll be a fair bit longer than a week to get there, but yes, we are going to see him. He might be jealous of your horse – I always was, back when I was an infantryman. But yes, you will get to see him over the course of our next mission. You’re starting to get a taste of what the Inquisition is. You’ll always be on the move.” Then he leaned back and grinned. “Though for people like us, seeing Gaia’s earth, getting to keep moving, constantly have something to focus on other than our thoughts…there are worse things, no?”

I glanced at him, and realized why he was more talkative these days than he’d been before – he’d spent years doing this alone. With his own thoughts. His faith was as strong as it had ever been, and I couldn’t help but agree…still, the idea of doing this alone… “Yeah, it is.” I ventured a question. “You said you were raised by an Inquisitor, but…”

“I was formally adopted by one, but the Circle of Faith really raised me more than Willow did. She spent too much time running around, which is why Inquisitors aren’t technically allowed to have or adopt children below a certain age.” That seemed intelligent. I mean, getting adopted by an Inquisitor who was never around seemed better than Randaynia’s system for preventing orphans from becoming a burden on the state, but, ya know, before I thought rescue was a possibility I’d have said that anything short of straight-up euthanasia cleared that bar so it probably wasn’t the best thing to compare to.

“Right. I remember you mentioning it. But I can’t have kids anyway, so…” I clapped a hand over my mouth as he glanced towards me and raised an eyebrow. “I uh…am I allowed to refuse to explain that?”

“Yes, but at some point you should probably stop doing so and just talk to me about it. Optionally I could hire a therapist for you to talk to, if it’s something that still bothers you.”

“Wait, Inquisitors are allowed to go to therapy? Then why….” I stopped myself before I could say anything really offensive like, “Then why are you so repressed,” which I had a hunch might have gotten him to show some actual anger.

“Why what?” The expression of mild curiosity on his face was as remote as ever, though his tone of voice indicated he genuinely wanted to know where I was going with it.

“Why do you never show any emotion that doesn’t seem like a performance?”

He stiffened, and he actually gave me a look of genuine surprise. “You picked up on that, did you?”

“It’s not hard, before you praise anything,” I was feeling a little bolder. “Not to anyone who’s spent a lot of time in your company, anyway.” He sighed.

“That’s a story for after the argument I’m going to have with the Circle. Partly because I need to know how much of that particular trick I should be teaching you.” I had no idea what that meant, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. 


	11. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River has a sensory experience, Ash matches hard questions and wits with the Archdruid of Inquisition

_River_

It wasn’t fun being told to go explore the capital of Arcadia as a “sensory meditation” exercise. I’d done those before, with Ash, were the point was to take off the armor and just walk in the woods and take it in. But doing it with Ash, who after about three months of training I felt pretty safe around, despite his difficulties acting like a person, was different than having Ash tell me to do it as “training” when it was abundantly clear he needed me to fuck off for a little while he started what was probably the first argument against his superiors he’d ever had as an adult. Which on one hand, yeah, I understood that it was probably wiser and safer for me to miss that, but on the other hand. I really, really wanted to watch the result. Especially given that I still wasn’t sure how much Ash’s explanations of why he was so withdrawn I actually believed. Or rather, how many of them were the whole truth.

Still, Ash had proven a capable Mentor thus far, I had my instructions, and frankly whatever happened with him I had the feeling he wouldn’t keep me out of the fight he was having if he didn’t know that the consequences that could be rained down on me might be more than I wanted to handle. Sighing, I took off my treated black leather jacket, the sword, the quiver, the bow, though I kept the knife sheathed as we always did when we went on these out on the roads, into the woods around it. They were hung up, along with my other weaponry, by the door to the Temple, where Ash was meeting. I started walking, then paused. My boots rattled against the cobblestones in a way I loved – a powerful sound, that announced that I was there and that I had no need to hide. I kept walking, taking in the sights, the scent of the lavender oil lamps burning near the temple, the sound of a small band playing their instruments on the corner.

Continuing to move, I saw a small unit of Arcadian Guardsmen marching in perfect patrol formation coming back into town – though their repurposed-iron studded boots rang against the cobblestones more stridently than my own steps, crossbows slung on their shoulders, swords swinging from their belts. They looked like they’d earned it though. A few men were walking behind them, wrists bound in simple ropes. Unharmed, even, which I was given to understand was the way to earn commendations as a soldier – capture petty criminals without harming them. Whatever those men had been arrested for, they’d have job training, followed by a brief period of time in a penal work unit – usually on farms or on bicycle generator teams. Or scrap processing yards. All jobs that normal Arcadians got drafted to do for a few weeks at a time and got paid for afterwards. Convicts got paid two-thirds standard rate on completion of their sentences, and got some degree of job training.

Getting those notices had alarmed me the first time it happened, but finding out that everyone got them from time to time had made it a little better – that and getting paid fairly for it. And I knew that what I was doing, when that came up, was actually beneficial to me and the community as a whole – wait, why was I thinking? I was ruining the meditative walk for myself. I kept walking, closing my eyes and focusing on that one little band over there. Good. The scent of the holy lavender oil, the scent of the flowers growing around me…better. I kept moving, taking deep breaths. There was a little tea shop and bakery, but for now I had to focus. There was a school nearby, and the shrieks of the kids reminded me, pleasantly, of my little sister – the one who hadn’t made it until the Arcadians had arrived.

Happy memories, River.

There was a ceramics store, a carpenter’s workshop, and a different Temple, one for the Circle of Faith, though services weren’t occurring at the moment. I sat down when I realized I’d been wandering for over an hour, and tried to ignore the weirdoes of that earthing sect doing the same thing I was – albeit without any footwear, which to my mind made the whole thing less sanitary. Shrugging off that, I went to get something to eat – I hadn’t had anything for breakfast because Ash and I had been arguing on the subject of where I’d be during his argument, and obviously he’d won. I headed to the tea shop and ordered a bit of the peach tea and some eggs, ignoring a few people staring at the scars on my neck.

As I sat down, I took a sip of the tea and tried to tune out my concern. Whether I wanted to think about it or not…I was a little worried about the steely bastard.

I was jolted out of that thought by someone with colored streaks in their hair sitting down at my table and introducing herself as Tyler before smiling ingratiatingly at me and saying, “You’re River Damien, right?” I didn’t react. Then she laughed a little and nodded.

“Right. I’m a reporter for the Vocis, and I heard the first refugee ever to become an Inquisitor was in town. I just wanted to ask you some questions.”

I blinked. Of all the things she…glancing at the lapel pin I mentally changed it to “they” could have said, that was not one I expected. I looked into their eyes and leaned back, then gazed dramatically to the side, before saying in my best impression of the cadence Ash always started in when he wanted to lean into Inquisitorial stereotypes of power and mystery. “Ask whatever you will. I will answer what I can.”

Ash

I walked over to the Temple of Inquisition, with the tower above it where I knew the Archdruid was going to be. I glowered at the guard in front of the door and showed my Emerald Eyes to get him to let me pass and ascended the stairs, my hip cursing me with every painful step. There was a pulley lift if someone who couldn’t walk wanted up here, but I wasn’t going to use that. I understood, intellectually, that there was nothing wrong with having a damaged hip. And I didn’t judge others for their infirmities. But, by Gaia, I still wanted to prove to myself I could do this. And since it was just pain, not further damage, I wasn’t too worried. I got up to the top of the tower and knocked on the oaken door to the Archbishop’s chamber with my undamaged hand.

“Come in.”

I opened the door and made the sign of the roots as I entered, then stood to attention as the old woman looked at me. “Sergeant Ash Roanoake.”

“Mentor Ash Roanoake, Circle of Inquisition.” The old bat was really going to do that? Give my military rank instead of the one I’d earned in the Circle? I got a gently condescending smile in return for my correction, which was funny in its optimism. Just because I rarely expressed much of anything didn’t mean that I couldn’t read it when other people did.

“Of course. And I’m given to understand you came with questions for me?” She sat down, easily reclining in her chair. “Ask.”

“My first question: It was made such a point, after I took a leave of absence from my own apprenticeship and joined the Guard, that I would have to submit the journals from my time in the guard before I’d be allowed back into the Circle. And that all records for the squad I was in would be examined for unacceptable behavior.”

“What is the question?”

I suppressed my irritation and kept it off my face. “My question is: Given that my journals are abundantly clear about which units I was in, and military record is abundantly clear about which refugees were rescued by what unit, and that my journals mention repeatedly a brother and sister that match the description of River and her brother….why was she given to me to train? Sage was chosen as my mentor specifically because he was one of the very few Inquisition Druids that I’d never met, and yet River – the ONLY Randaynian refugee ever to pass selection to be an Inquisitor – is entrusted for training to the one man in that circle she knows? In blatant violation of usual traditions? How did that happen?”

She blinked. “That is strange and irregular, I admit. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first irregularity around you. You are, after all, the only ex-soldier to be an inquisitor in living memory. You are also the last person to be raised by an inquisitor, possibly ever with the new laws. And,” said the Archdruid, “You are personally acquainted, according to the journals you brought up just a moment ago, you did have a fair bit of interaction with the heretic who committed the Yosemite Arson.”

Scorch me. Was that why they’d assigned River to me? Wanting to destabilize me because they thought I was…no, Apprentices were assigned mentors two years ahead of when they actually met, so it couldn’t have been that. This was something else…oh. She was trying to off balance me.

“I did. And knowing his preferred tactics was an advantage in finding and stopping him before he could have spread his lunacy.”

“Quite, but I can’t help but wonder what he told you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It was all clearly detailed in my report. Which is in the Circle’s archives. Did I need to clarify?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No. Just explain. Why if you knew him well enough to analyze his tactical choices and how he’d proceed…was there any warning system for what he would do?”

“No. Of course not. He went mad between the Crusade and his crimes. Must have. What he did makes no sense otherwise. But his lunacy didn’t affect his operating style. That’s all.”

She nodded. “Very well. As to your apprentice being assigned as she was – you are a very irregular inquisitor. Not the most popular with your peers, but effective. Unusual background but you’ve made it work. If anyone would be able to teach a refugee, wildly unused to the Gaian faith, how to adapt and thrive as a member of the Circle of Inquistion, it would be someone with an unlikely role there himself.”

I wasn’t the most paranoid of the Inquisition. There was a part of me that felt honored by what the Archdruid of my Circle was saying. But I wasn’t a fool. There was more than she was saying, and her probing about Eckhart indicated that it would have been singularly unwise to proceed with my questions. And it answered my other questions as well. River was even less likely to be welcomed by her Inquisitorial peers than I was. I was a soldier, and therefore had connections in the secular government that the Faith sometimes argued with. She was a refugee from an enemy state in a thoroughly heretical lifestyle.

That answered that question. I’d have to teach her my way. Every bit as closed, cold, and implacable as I was, and teach her how to ignore it. How to be so good that they had no choice but to admire and respect you. “As you will, Archdruid.” I made the sign of the roots again, then turned on my heel and left. I’d have to talk to River about whether or not she wanted to remain in the Inquisition as well.

River

Tyler was actually kind of a blast. They’d asked me a few good questions about what it was like to be a refugee from the war, how myself and my remaining family were getting along, what age I’d been when the Guard had showed up, all of which had been easy enough. They’d been kind enough not to ask too many questions about what I’d been through before then, and asked why I had joined the Inquisition.

I had been brought up short. “Just seemed like a thing I could do. The difference between here and Randaynia is pretty marked and after what I saw, I wanted to make sure that this place stayed as good as it was. And well…never really been much of a preacher.”

They nodded. “And your mentor. Ash Roanoake, right?” I nodded.

“He was one of the best swordsmen in Arcadia back before the crusade, and he’s usually considered pretty cold, even for an inquisitor. What’s he like as a mentor?”

I chuckled. “Well, terrible conversationalist, actually a pretty good teacher, and he’s a pretty reassuring presence. Provided you haven’t pissed him…” I saw him walking out of the Temple, his face as eerily serene as ever but a certain tension to his frame that indicated he was, indeed, furious at the moment.

“Speaking of which, looks like he’s coming.” Tyler stood up and glanced at him, then went pale. “Alright. You gave me some good insights into him, and the Inquisition. Glad refugees are integrating so well. And hit me up next time you’re in town, if you want to talk again, or have good information.” They smiled at me before making a hasty exit.

My mentor sat down, and looked more tired than I’d ever seen him. “Alright. Not quite the answers I was hoping for. I’ll explain on the way to your brother’s garrison.”


	12. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River and Ash bond, some of the issues they're up against are discussed

**Ash**

The ride to the border these days takes a week and a half. It took two months to march to, but then again, I’d been infantry back then, and we weren’t allowed to march faster than the supply wagons because we didn’t want to get ahead of our supplies. Also we’d been worried about ambush, since this area had been contested at the time. I kept my mouth closed on all of that around River. After all, she had proven quite talented at lipping off rapidly and I didn’t feel like getting mocked any further, justified though it was. Quincy was holding up well, as was Daisy, and when we dismounted, we began our usual sparring session. Ever since the fight with the cultists, River had been more wary of me in these matches, more hesitant to exploit my weak side for fear I’d start cutting lose properly. She came in low, so I sidestepped, sweeping my blade towards her chin in an uppercut, while she twisted away and lunged at my side. Parry, downward thrust, kick to my knee, slash at my throat, also parried and answered with a lunge/slash combination, the first of which was sidestepped, the second parried and answered with a thrust of her own.

I laughed a bit, my own voice pitching up as I swept away from the attack, whipped around and barely evaded a second low cut before I went high and cleaved down, proud of her skill at dancing aside and returning a devastating thrust to the chest that I only barely parried before seeing an opening and giving a single, brutal thrust to her abdomen. I was surprised by the fact that I was a little winded by the fight – she was getting better at a rapid rate. River grunted a fell to the ground, wheezing. “Scorch you, Ash!” She groaned and caught her breath, standing up. “How am I ever supposed to beat you.

I chuckled. I’d said the same thing to my own instructors a few times. “I know you aren’t impressed by hearing this, but you are improving fast. Don’t worry that you can’t beat me yet. It took quite a while before I was able to beat Abe in our sparring sessions during my time in the military. It took longer to recover enough that I was able to beat Sage when I joined the Inquisition. You’re sparring with a person considered to be the best swordfighter in Arcadia – it’s going to take time before you beat me. But on the upside – you’re already good enough to take people three at a time and only run into trouble if they get clever. And you’ll be too good for that to work before long.” She groaned.

“Look, Ash, I get it. I get the motivational pep talk. I appreciate that you mean it. I appreciate that I’m way, way better than I used to be. I’m just sick of getting my ass kicked.” I nodded. “Fair enough. Did I hit anything too hard?”

She shook her head. “Nah. I just felt like I should be doing better by now. Meditation?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Clean yourself up, then let’s do that.”

**River**

I was a bit sore from the ride but I really was starting to understand why Ash loved travelling as much as he did. These flats might be brutally hot but the endless sands and beautiful rock formations we passed were something to see. When we dismounted and took care of the horses, I was already eager for our sparring session – Ash might be the best fighter in Arcadia, but I was slowly gaining on him in skill – even if the fight with the Nihilons proved that it was going to be a while before I measured up.

Still, when you go all at once from thinking you’ll beat the best blade in Arcadia in a sparring match to abruptly being on the ground with the wind knocked out of you because you saw what he was doing a split second to late to parry, it’s easy to get frustrated. If you’re me, anyway. At the time, the jury in my head was still very much out on whether or not Ash was actually capable of visible frustration.

The meditation, sitting down and digging your hands into the earth, breathing, focusing on the sounds and scents of the world around you, the feeling of the ground beneath your feet and the wind on your face, was becoming a more calming feeling for me. Brought back fewer bad memories, even in the grainier soil here, that I still remembered getting in my hair all too well on the long march of evacuation during the war. Daisy was drinking from the little oasis Ash’s map had led to, along with Quincy. When we finished the meditation, Ash tossed me some dried fruit and meat, and let me get out my own canteen. I raised an eyebrow.

“We’re not in a place that’s friendly to foraging, cookfires, or hunting. So we bring dried rations for places like this. Should be only another two days or so to a point where we can start eating better. And going further, since the heat is definitely limiting what the horses can take.” He nodded at the blankets. “Oh, and make use of those because the nights get cold in the desert. More so than you’d think.”

I remembered that much from the evacuation – we’d come close to freezing more than once. I remembered a few soldiers giving us blankets, some of them holding back tears. I hadn’t realized til much later that they were giving us blankets from soldiers who’d died in the fighting. “Right. So, Ash, this place bring back memories for you, too?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it, and my mentor shrugged.

“Few. Most of my memories of the war are further east. It wasn’t too bad here, just a long, forced march.” Somehow that sounded more or less unsurprising coming from Ash. “You?”

“Mostly how it was to be shuffled back towards Arcadia. I was freaking out for my family, for my little sister, for the fact that my brother and I were totally alone, even if we were being taken somewhere safe by Arcadian soldiers – you have to understand, my family got Van here, and we had some trade with an Arcadian family, but our whole lives, we’re told that you Arcadians are a bunch of brain washed religious fanatics.”

“Funny, we were told you lot didn’t understand the idea of inherent human dignity that happens with or without money.”

The retort was quick, and I blinked. That was the first sarcastic thing I’d heard him say. I had to confess, based on his general countenance, I actually still wasn’t sure if he, himself, was as cold as I thought. Then something else clicked. There was a degree of bitterness in those words.

“Mentor, what was the conversation you had with the Archdruid of Inquisition?” I’d been biting down on my curiosity for some time while we’d been travelling. But Ash had been even more quiet than usual, and I was getting tired of the quiet.

“Apprentice, I’ll make you a bargain. Tell me what passed between you and that reporter, and I’ll answer you in full.” It wasn’t quite like Ash to make an offer like that, but I’d never known him to lie to me. But what made him so curious about the reporter? They hadn’t seemed terribly dangerous, maybe Ash was just paranoid.

“They asked a lot of questions about life as a refugee adapting to Arcadia – pretty honest answer, I had very little to lose coming here, and I arrived when I was thirteen, so I was able to adapt. They asked about what had made me join the Inquisition, and I gave the same answer I gave you, they really obviously didn’t get it quite the way you did.” That thought brought me up short. I had just realized that Ash emotionally got something about me, which was a strange thought. Comforting, though. Maybe he would be better than I thought. I kept going. “And they wanted to know a few things about you. Like what it was like learning under you, what it was like being an apprentice as a refugee, what it was like being the only ex-Randaynian to make it into the Inquisition, and one of a precious few to be a Druid.”

He glanced at me, stiffening. “And you told them?”

“That you’re easy enough to learn from, even if you are quiet, that it had it’s challenges, and that I often feel like I constantly need to measure up to be trusted by the other Inquisitors.”

I could tell that that had struck a nerve, and then listened as he replied. Then he asked a strange question and all I could do was shake my head in negation and bafflement. Then I saw him cut loose in a way I hadn’t seen.

**Ash**

Right, that complicated things a lot. Actually, no it simplified them. Time to do something I hadn’t done in years – express myself. “Apprentice, I apologize for what is about to happen and I promise none of it is directed at you.” I hesitated. “River, does shouting qualify as a trigger for you?”

She shook her head. I took a breath and thanked Gaia that there was no one around to hear this.

“SCORCHING WASTES! They’re putting you through it already. Those miserable scorching cunts.” I kicked a rock. Years and years of treating me as an outsider and a threat to Faith sovereignty, despite my upbringing, because I’d taken a pause from my apprenticeship to go on Crusade and been under the command of the Steward-General instead of the Faith and now they were treating my apprentice, a survivor of slavery, child abuse and other blasphemous barbarism as someone suspect because of her origins – I had suffered enough isolation for a choice that I stood by even now, but she’d had no choice at all but to deal with this. And of course, she’d been saddled with me – a mentor who wasn’t well liked and who was notorious for being difficult, popular only with my own mentor and adoptive mother among the Inquisition. Someone else they had wanted to bury.

I took a deep breath and made the roots with my hand. “Alright, River.” I didn’t bother hiding the exhaustion and contempt I felt from my voice. I was a loyal servant of Gaia, and they’d screwed me and River alike. “Alright. So here’s the situation, one I’ve been reluctant to explain. You know, probably, that there is some degree of tension between the Stewards and the Druids, right?” The faith and secular governments of Arcadia always had some tension, but they worked in tandem.

She nodded, looking startled by my outburst. “Right, so my time in the Guard, a secular military organization, didn’t exactly make me popular among the Druids. The fact that I came back and became an Inquisitor hasn’t made them like me better, neither is the fact that I liaison between the Inquisition and the secular intelligence services. You probably aren’t popular with them because of your origin – you weren’t wrong a few days ago when you asked why the Inquisition kept close tabs on first generation refugees. So the idea that someone raised outside the faith would help enforce it couldn’t have gone over well.”

She sagged a little, and I felt a surge of absolute fury. “No, don’t do that. The Archdruid made a mistake if they didn’t want you to succeed. They gave you to the one person who didn’t particularly care what they thought made a good Inquisitor – my duty is to Gaia, and in time you’ll be good enough at this that they can’t afford to mistreat you. And as you may have guessed, my opinions on the Archdruid herself aren’t exactly charitable. If you still want this training, River. You are my apprentice, and if you desire it, you will be a Druid of Inquisition.”

She looked at me, and for just once, she looked like she felt nothing but relief, and genuine trust. What was it that Willow and Sage had told me when I’d written them and said I was nervous about this? Many apprentices need to know that you believe in them and that you’ll back them no matter what. Find what they’re most afraid of – then make sure they know you’ll stand alongside them whenever they face it.

From the looks of things, I finally had.

**River**

Ash cutting loose and telling me the truth I’d suspected was gratifying. It gave me a sense of kinship with the icy bastard – no, not icy, I realized, he’s just been hiding everything because he didn’t want to show weakness…just like I used to. His words were as honest and blunt as ever, but there was a degree of certainty and drive to them. Ash wasn’t silk hiding steel – quiet, unassuming, but hard and determined. He was a calm sea hiding a storm. The deadliest swordsman in Arcadia, the Inquisitor I’d heard referred to, behind his back as “the Cinder of the War” was my mentor. And I think he was right. That he was the absolute best Mentor I could have hoped for.


	13. River's Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River does something awesome, and then sees her brother again.

**Ash**

“Apprentice, see that stone shelter up ahead?” My voice was calm, detached, but loud enough to be heard over the howling gale around us. I was attempting to remain calm, but this was a bad, bad day to be travelling. The cache was pretty close, and it was also a shelter for when things like what were about to happen did.

“Yeah?” River was a bit more nervous.

“This is the time to gallop for it because a real bad storm is coming. And we do NOT want to be outside when it hits.”

I was already spurring Quincy into motion, as she sped up, River not a full length behind me before we thundered towards the structure, winds whipping up around us, lightning flashing and thunder roaring over the scream of the wind. We got to the doors and I vaulted off Quincy, swearing profusely as my already aching hip cramped up. I threw the door open and let River get Daisy through it before she began getting Quincy inside as well. A blast of wind made it harder to close the doors, the dust and sand raking at my flesh and making it hard for me to see. I began moving towards the door again, struggling against the wind as River finally got the horses inside, only to stumble in uncertain footing and have my hip give out on me. I tried to force myself up but my damn hip just wasn’t working with me, cramped almost entirely by the weather. River saw and sprinted over to me, clawing at my jacket and hauling me to my feet and we sprinted inside, hauling the doors shut and barring them.

I looked at my apprentice, face flushed with triumph and adrenaline as the thunder cracked the skies outside. “Thanks, River. We’ll stay here until the storm passes. We’re only a day from the Eastern Sierra province.” The storm was screaming outside, wind clawing furiously at the stone walls that had been painstakingly constructed in good weather for travelers, caravans, Inquisitors, and families relocating for exactly this sort of event. Quincy was well-adapted to these sorts of conditions, though she was still nervous enough that I gave her an apple and some gentle words to calm her down, while River tried to calm Daisy, who was just short of spooking.

I moved to assist my apprentice as her horse reared and kicked. A hoof glanced brutally off my shoulder, but my jacket took the worst of it as I spoke slowly, letting River do a bit, and eventually Daisy calmed down – though my shoulder was still going to ache tomorrow.

“Well, the light in here isn’t good enough for a sparring session.” I rummaged around in my pack and pulled out a lantern and set it down, turning it on. “So let’s just meditate and try to rest. Or we can talk if you want.” My heart was still trying to hammer its way out of my chest after how close my bad hip had come to killing me today – and that was after I’d promised to watch my Apprentice’s back even from other Inquisitors. She’d been quiet ever since that conversation, like she was expecting her dream to be taken away. Again. Enough people had let River down, and I didn’t intend to be another.

“By the way. Just so we’re clear? You saved my life today. I wouldn’t have made it in in time without you.” She glanced at me. “Seriously, River. You’ll make an amazing Inquisitor. Scorch what anyone says. Up to and including the Archdruid.” Sincere expressions of emotion were not my forte, but I was trying, even though I could tell from her eyes that she wasn’t totally sure if she bought it.

She finally looked at me. We had turned a corner that night around the campfire, I think, but she was still weighing what to tell me and what not to.

**River**

I finally forced myself to ask a question, one that had been eating at me for some time. I wasn’t sure if I could be a good Inquisitor after all – I might be culturally Gaian, but on the subject of Gaia herself I was pretty agnostic. “A few nights ago, you said you didn’t know if I was all that devout in thoughts, but in my ethics and my actions, you thought I was “as holy as anyone.” I was too busy being relieved you weren’t the steely bastard I thought to ask, but I want to ask now: what does that mean?”

Ash was still breathing a little hard from how close he’d come to death, but he paused to think about the question, then answered, voice slow. “Gaia’s about taking care of the earth, taking care of the people on it, making sure we work within our environment as one part of Her…and make sure the environments we create among ourselves work the same way. You came from Randaynia, and you’ve been pretty clear what you thought of the place, and what’s more, you genuinely got to know a few of those Delvers on the way back. You want to learn about the people of Arcadia and the world, and that kind of curiosity helps with compassion – which really should be the driving force of an Inquisitor. We’re here to prevent people from hurting each other, preferably by word, but by force if we have to. And you have the drive that I don’t think you’ll shy from a blade if you need it – but I pulled the scrolls on your time as an initiate while I was at the temple. Your concern over penal labor indicates you prefer not to harm anyone and see pretty clearly how easy abuse would be if it isn’t dealt with conscientiously.”

I couldn’t resist the sarcasm. “Yeah, it was almost like I’d had a first-hand experience or something.”

His bearing hardened and expression got darker. “Quite. The way you were treated was cruel, abusive, blasphemous, and learning what I have about what was done to you effectively removed any doubt I had about anything I did to slave trainers being justified.” Oh. The anger wasn’t at my snark – there was a deep-seated rage in him about how I’d been treated. And beneath that, a sense of genuine satisfaction in what he’d done during the war. If he was a cinder, he was the kind that can start another fire if you bring him too close to something dry.

“And that’s sort of exactly my point. You understand, in a way few Arcadians do, just how important Gaia and Her love actually are – as someone who suffered quite a bit from their lack. You understand why it’s important we live like this, why we pay attention and make sure people understand the value of Her teachings.” He’d continued speaking, and I realized I’d probably missed the first few words of what he’d said.

“Do you have any other questions?”

“No, thanks. And Ash?” I decided to slip in a bit of honesty for him. “You saved my life twice. Saving you this once was the least I could do.”

I laid out my bedroll and prepared to rest, though the howling gale outside made that harder than I wanted it to be, as did the thunder. Ash seemed much more able to do so, tossing down a bedroll and starting to rest. Must have gotten used to sleeping through loud noises during the war. This shelter was badly insulated – or perhaps too well. It was frigid in here, and I was shaking in my bag when Ash noticed and stood up, draping his own blanket over mine, and slept again. “Sleep, kid. We’re seeing your brother tomorrow and I don’t want him to have any questions about why you don’t look rested.”

***

**Ash**

I woke first, which wasn’t particularly surprising. River woke not long after me, and we did our morning meditation, fingers and toes dug into the soil before we fed and watered the horses. The storm had finally passed the night before, and we were ready to see the little town that had grown in the shadow of the garrison.

Her words last night about having saved my life were nice – she seemed to be more open with me now, as well. I tried to get into my saddle and found my hip, once again, not responding easily. River was kind enough to roll a log over that I could stand on to make it just a little easier.

“Thanks.” She swung onto Daisy’s back and we began trotting out of the shelter, and I was once again taken aback by how absolutely gorgeous this area was after a storm. The dew on everything glistened and sparkled in the sun, and the air was remarkably still. The beauty of nature made an excellent argument for a literal belief in Gaia, to my mind. Maybe it would help my apprentice sort things out a bit on that end.

“So…how long has it been? Since you saw your brother, I mean.”

“Four years. There was always some reason, after Initiation, that we couldn’t visit. He’s been in this garrison the whole time. We’ve been allowed to exchange letters, but I haven’t gotten to see him in years.”

I glanced at her. “Must have been hard. From the sound of it you relied on him a lot.”

She shrugged. “I really did, but we both had other things to think about. Being able to see him again will do a lot of good for both of us.” The road firmed up and we flicked the reins to get the horses moving a little faster. “Should be there by noon, River. Been this way before.”  
“Right, and are we doing the inspection or visiting Beckett first?”

“The inspection is scheduled for day after tomorrow. We’re doing it tomorrow so that they don’t have time to cover anything up. You see your brother today.”

The thudding of Quincy’s hooves did nothing kind for my bad hip, and it was actually River who suggested slowing down. She must have noticed that I was in a fair bit of pain and didn’t want to push me too hard. It was a kind gesture, but I was honestly more embarrassed to be slowing something down than I was pained by my old wounds. We finally reigned in at the guard outpost, and I dismounted, forcing myself to remain upright as the impact of the ground traveled up my leg. I held Quincy’s reigns in my bad hand.

A few soldiers ran up, their ceramic cuirasses rattling slightly as they moved. We hadn’t had those when I joined up, we’d had to make due with hardened leather with a few bits of old scrap attached at the critical bits. They’d worked well enough, but the ceramic gear was clearly significantly better protection – even if it slowed them down a little.

One of them assigned to stable duty took the reigns of our horses, and another guard checked us over, weapons ready but not pointed at us. “State your names and your business.”

“Mentor Ash Roanoke, Druidic Circle of Inquisition, and Apprentice River Damien, of the same Circle, here to visit her brother, Sgt. Beckett Pamela of the 14th Arcadian Guard Regiment.”

The soldier paused, then whistled. “Yes sir! Sarge said he had a little sister who’d joined the Inquisition. Said she was one of the reasons he joined up – to help protect her.” He held a hand out to River. “And if you’re Sergeant Beckett’s sister, you’re welcome with us.” He clapped her on the back with his leather gauntlet and she chuckled as I traded grips with the soldier.

“Come on, he’s out by the palisade.” The soldier led us through a zone with bustling activity, soldiers running around, a few of the armorers sharpening obsidian and slate for crossbow bolt tips, others carefully shaping the ceramic ones – oh they had four-bladed bolt tips now, that was new, but I could see easily how that would be better. Damn, this generation of Guardsmen had some nice kit I envied. My hip ached as I realized that the little metal bands on their greaves would have kept me fully able to walk – lucky little bastards.

I spotted River’s brother easily. Stood relatively tall, his green-painted ceramic armor fitting him nicely, the crossbow at his shoulder with the light shield and sword slung from his hip. He was broad-shouldered and strong, and he had evidently refused a gorget, and given their similarities to Randaynian slave collars – at least in fit – I couldn’t say I blamed him. His brown hair was short-cropped, a notable difference from the photo River had of him, where he’d had long, curling locks, but then he was wearing a military cut now. I shouted to him. “Sergeant Beckett Pamela. You’ve got a visitor.”

He looked at me with a trace of nervousness around him, recognizing the gear of the Inquistion on a man he probably didn’t remember – then he saw me, and his eyes went wide – only to spot River and to smile ear to ear and hug his little sister, who went crashing into his breastplate, which from where I stood looked painful, but they clung to each other.

**River**

Ash’s usual calm was pretty impressive as we got moving the next morning, but I could tell his hip hurt like hell. As we kept going, I asked him about what order we were doing things in, and I realized – he’d been pushing himself harder than he’d anticipated to let me be able to do this. When I realized that I made him slow down a little. When we dismounted at the gate I got more and more excited. My big brother, the one who looked after me all those years after our parents died….he was only a few hundred meters away. The way the soldier talked about him – he was like family in the Guard. He’d found an acceptance here that no one but Ash had showed me in the Inquisition. And as the soldier shook my hand, I got even more excited to see my brother – he’d always been popular in school, made friends with new people easily, where I’d always been more nervous.

As we rounded the corner and I saw him – he looked different than I remembered. More assured. Harder. But he was still my brother, even if he’d gotten his hair sheared and gotten all covered in armor. Ash’s shout took him by surprise, and he didn’t seem to get a full idea of who Ash was before I crashed into him.

In retrospect, glomping a brother in a ceramic breastplate without a helmet wasn’t the best idea, but this was the first time I saw any of my family in years. “Good to see you again, River.”


	14. School Inspection, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes there are Karens even in the apocalypse, to answer the question my beta reader had. Also, more about financial impacts of the war and the Arcadian economy

**Ash**

Gaia, but I hated school inspections. There was always some nonsense or another that kept me from looking as deeply as I wanted to, or the issues were outside of Inquisitorial jurisdiction, or the principal was altogether too smug having gotten all the paperwork together intelligently. The Eastern Sierra was no exception.

In this case it was a pale, middle aged woman who seemed to have forgotten that the scorching Inquisition does not have managers you can demand to speak to unless you have the time and energy to send messages to the Archdruid.

“I’m well aware of the importance of the work you do for the faith, Druid, but there are still rules, and I want your name and the ability to contact your superior.”

That was unfortunate. The Archdruid and I didn’t see eye-to-eye…but this one didn’t know that, and the Archdruid wasn’t about to damage the Inquisition’s reputation by letting some random citizen have one thrown out – no, when and if I was thrown out, it would be because the Archdruid had planned it, not because she’d caved to the will of some angry twit. “My name is Mentor Ash Roanoke. And you have the right to send a message to the Circle of Inquisition. Best of luck, however, I think you’ll find that my apprentice and I are well within our rights – you were told to expect us sometime with in these few weeks, and given an estimate of the day we arrived. The roads were kinder than expected.”

“Have you filled out all the permissions to be here?” She looked at me irritably, and I thought it would be wise to repeat myself more slowly.

“I’m an Inquisitor. I don’t have to fill out anything. What are you on?”

“I know full well you’re with the Inquisition, but schools are under the control of the Stewardship of Education, not the Circles. You have to submit the paperwork for early inspection.”

I grunted. “Fine, bring me the paperwork. River, go check around the area while I do this – if only to make sure that the shrine here is well kept.” No one would dare dispute my right to make sure that was being attended properly. The admin nodded as I filled out the necessary bureaucratic nonsense, and I worked my way through it – I checked that line of thought. Technically they weren’t wrong, it was just annoying. They were allowed to demand this be filled out. I had the letter from the Stewardship that requested inquisitorial help, which would allow me to bypass the argument about a waiting period to process the paperwork entirely – they’d have it on file.

Name, Ash Roanoke, Rank: Mentor, Circle of Inquisition. Inspection Date: 19 May 246 AC.

My damaged hand twitched and the admin behind the desk looked at it strangely. “Hey, are you the one they call the Cinder of the War?” I stood up and slammed the papers down.

“Paperwork is done. I’m doing my inspection.” I hated that nickname. It kept reminding me that I was damaged, burned out, how much less I was now after the war. How it had stained me in the eyes of the Inquisition – politically, and after some of the massacres, morally. Hell, I even agreed on that last point. The majority of the crusade’s victims deserved it but I knew full well that the Guard had pretty much cut loose in a few of the major campaigns – hadn’t been a lot of prisoners or survivors from those areas.

I walked out and began trying to catch up with River, though the recent rain and the soreness from the last few days made that painful on my damn hip. This school was one primarily for refugee kids – that border fortress was one of the ones that ran regular sweeps for people fleeing Randaynia. And with that regime disintegrating ever faster, the refugees were coming through a lot more often. So did mercenaries looking for a bit of plunder from Arcadia but the Guard were pretty able to repel them. This school’s inspection was important – new people coming here needed the proper education, both spiritual and secular.

The place seemed pretty well run. The shrine was well maintained, according to River, and the staff seemed relatively relaxed – the students less so. The black jackets, so different from what normal people wore, and the visibly-worn pendants that marked us as Inquisitors, certainly set people on edge. Some of them.

Others, like the moppet in the front row of one of the younger classes, seemed mostly impressed to see us. People told all sorts of stories of the Inquisition Druids, mostly superstition. We could see in the dark – I mean, that one was sort of true, though it had more to do with certain drugs we carried that dilatated our pupils if we really needed to do something in the dead of night. That left you with horrible hangovers, though. Some idiot had started a rumor years ago that we were drugged throughout training in a way that removed our ability to feel pain – absolute nonsense.

“What’re Ravens doing here?” That was one of the children, looking nervous. “None of us are heretics.”

**River**

The kids really didn’t quite know how to react to the Inquisition. I hadn’t either, when I’d first come. I wondered if Vera had been any more relaxed. “No, none of you are heretics. Ash would be able to tell.” I joked, knowing that my mentor’s refusal to have actual facial expressions around anyone other than me, Willow, Sage, or his old Guard buddies would leave me at no risk of being contradicted.

“What about you?” The little girl who had been staring at us, open mouthed, spoke up. I smiled. “Not yet. I’m still an apprentice. Once I finish training, I’ll be able to sense heresy too.” I could literally feel Ash’s sphincter tighten and I knew I’d pay dearly for this during the sparring session tonight. Too much fun though. The kid’s eyes got even wider.

“That sounds pretty cool. Good luck!”

We stepped out of the room and Ash’s deadpan expression suddenly split. “What in Gaia’s name was that?”

“A bit of fun, Mentor.”

“No, because they already think the Inquisition are vaguely superhuman – an idea they direly need to lose given what I’m thinking. Please do not encourage any further nonsense like that.” His voice was cold again, hard, and it brought back far too many memories. I backed away and started breathing hard, covering myself just a little.

Ash checked, looking at me with a genuinely sorry expression on his face. “River, are you alright?” He kept his hands back at his sides. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me a second.” I sucked down a little more air and slumped down the side of the wall, digging my fingers into the dirt around it. I forced myself to ground, mentally, with some deep breaths and some focus on where I was right now. Eastern Sierra province, Arcadia. I was an Apprentice in the Circle of Inquisition, 25 years old, not a 12-year-old slave again.

“Okay. Okay. I’m fine. When you get mad at me, please just growl or shout or something. Show some expression. They never did.”

Ash’s face took on a look of shame, and he shook himself. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t know. Didn’t realize that was a trigger.” I thought through his reaction. He was pretty clearly planning something regarding the hierarchy of the Inquisition trying to fuck us over – and he was worried that whatever I’d thought of would make it harder. “Hey, Ash? Whatever it is…I don’t think I messed up your plan. I won’t do it again, though.”

Ash started, then chuckled. “I’m so proud of you, apprentice. Not as much for listening as for figuring out that I had a plan and what I was worried about. Are you going to be okay to continue the school inspection?”

I pushed myself to my feet and smiled. “Yeah, should be.”

The next classroom we entered was one full of teenagers – and teenagers being what they are, the first reaction was of course, “Gaia damnit, Tom, your kinky crap brought down the inquisition. Do you see what you do?”

Ash’s face was a mask again and I wanted to laugh. “Please do not speak of kink in my presence, child.” He spoke clearly, and clipped.

I started laughing, but I hadn’t swept my hair foreward after the little panic attack as much as I thought. One of the kids, a refugee by the markings on his neck, was staring at my own collar scars intently. “Miss…”

I turned. “Yeah?”

“Were you a refugee too?”

I nodded. The kid smiled. “And they let you into the Inquisition. That’s amazing.” I smiled, feeling cold inside. If what Ash figured out was true, the Archdruid didn’t care for that – just didn’t dislike it enough to overrule the faith and inquisition druids who’d said I should be allowed to join. “Yeah, it is. Stay focused, though.”

Ash was already moving, having finally gotten to the school archive – which would also contain the financial records. He tossed me the list of books for the library to check against, and entered the financial records himself. I glowered at him. I was supposed to check all these? “Oh Scorch you!”

“Learning experience, Apprentice – when you’re a Mentor you won’t want to do this, either. Plus the more practice you get, the faster you can do it.”

I rolled my eyes and started working.

***

Ash came out of the archives a few hours later, and then quietly helped me through the rest of the library list. I wasn’t finding anything heretical thus far, but Ash seemed quiet.

“What did you find?”

“Nothing too terrible, to be honest. Everything is running perfectly well under budget. By a degree that indicates that either things aren’t running well – though the Stewardship of Education reports indicate that that’s really unlikely – or that someone is infusing this place with money off the books. Then again, it started running a lot more on budget a few months ago….” He trailed off.

“Hey, Apprentice. Want to go check and see how long your brother has been stationed here? Because I suspect that someone’s taking tolls from refugee families as a fee of safe passage. Something that’s supposed to be illegal. And then donating most of the money to the school to avoid raising suspicion while keeping enough to themselves to make a profit.”

I nodded. “Right, Beck would go ballistic – or at the very least, it’d be reported and the person involved would be dealt with.” I was confused. When I’d come over I hadn’t had much, certainly not enough to steal from. Then again, maybe some people escaping did so with valuables hoping to start a new life, ahead of slavery?

“Another idea…we could ask the admin who’s been donating.”

He grinned. “Frame it as an innocuous irregularity we want to investigate fully – and if it seems after all’s considered that they knew, arrest them as well. Good thinking, apprentice. You head to the garrison to get the records from your brother – I’ll hit up the admin.”


	15. School Inspection Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case is resolved by following a paper trail, Ash and River talk jurisdictional issues

**Ash**

I squared my shoulders and went to hit up the admins. River would be the one to go to the fort if needed. I flashed my credentials and asked a few questions of the admins, a lean woman with a hard set to her mouth, swathed in a gentle green sundress.

“Came back, need to ask you something. Found a serious irregularity. No one here is in trouble, but I need to know: who has been donating to the school lately? And when?”

The admin looked at me, but I could tell there was an undercurrent of tension to her. “In what way is this relevant to the inspection of the school?”

“Well, you’re running seriously under budget and were, until a few months ago, subsisting on donations for about half your funding – by choice.”

Such a thing was well within a school’s rights – in fact after the war many of the soldiers who had come home with valuables taken as trophies had donated their pillaged wealth to help schools weather the transition of educating large groups of refugees while the Educational Stewardship was organizing new funding plans. I’d looted quite a bit of gold leaf that had been used to fund new books, desks and writing material for a school back in Grant’s Pass, one I’d spent a lot of time in as a kid when Willow and I moved around a lot. There were a few highly successful caravan companies whose owners donated huge chunks of their personal wealth to schools and hospitals in their own communities, to give back.

I continued, sensing that she was likely to bring up all of the above. “But since no grand caravan company has started up here, and it’s been a long time since the war and just about everyone already donated what loot they had to donate, I’m curious as to where the money came from. There’s been some rumor among the Guard and the Inquisition that there’s been some money laundering with a lot of unwitting and unwilling accomplices.” The lie at the end didn’t hurt anything – the fact that the rumor had started with River and I didn’t need to be shared and the belief that she was in no risk would make her more cooperative.

“Alright. There were a few soldiers, different names, don’t remember, but there are records somewhere – been bringing in money every couple weeks until a few months ago.” I nodded. “Right, but I need the records on what dates. Also their names and ranks.”

She nodded. “Sure. What do you think they’re laundering the money for, if I may ask?”

“Under investigation. We have suspicions but for now we’re keeping them quiet. The records?” I’d been in the school library where I could find the financial spreadsheets but nothing resembling specific dates of donation or the names of the donors – just monthly income from donation, from Stewardship, and expenditures.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” She walked away, and I smiled. I’d taken her for an obstructive bureaucrat but as far as I could tell she just wanted the school to function without legally or morally questionable practices that might cause political problems for it.

As she walked away I stood there, wondering how the ride to the fort was going for my apprentice.

**River**

Daisy had broken her trot into a full gallop back to the fort where Beckett was stationed, hooves thundering across the hard-packed ground as I felt the wind run through my hair. The ride wasn’t long – only about thirty miles. Ash had gone to deal with the admins, and I seriously doubted they had the skill for reading my mentor’s eternal poker face that I did. You could tell when some people lied because they were using a poker face, but Ash’s face was actually just like that.

A handful of the Guardsmen who were patrolling moved to signal me to stop before seeing the distinctive outfit of the Inquisition and the bouncing Emerald Eyes around my neck and let me pass.

I dismounted inside the fort. This was my first even semi-independent mission and I needed to get it right. “I - need to speak to Sergeant Damien…and whoever the current officer in charge is.” I hated how my voice came out – strangled and nervous, so I tried again, throwing my head back and repeating myself in the cold cadence Ash used when something needed doing quickly.

“I need to speak to Sergeant Pamela and the current officer in charge of the fort. Now.” One of the soldiers took in my inquisitorial badge and saluted. “Understood, Inquisitor. Her will be done.”

The man ran off, boots pounding over the hardpacked ground. I quickly tied Daisy to the hitching post and then stood there, nervously forcing myself not to fidget – wouldn’t do to show how nervous I was in front of soldiers, especially when I was supposedly acting in my role as an Inquisitor, under Ash’s orders. Beck came running back up and looked at me, worried, but the commander – his rank insignia said Captain, looked calm as he held out a hand. “Captain Connors, 14th Reclamation.”

I spoke quickly. “My mentor and I are investigating irregularities around this area – no one is in trouble right now. I just need access to all records about refugee groups arriving and passing through the fort. Copies of dates of arrival and dates of when they were finished being processed would actually be enough. There’s some evidence of money laundering and we’re concerned that someone might be taking illegal tolls from refugees – Ash says that’s a problem that happens at some border forts.”

The captain groaned in a way I could only describe as “exhausted,” and Beckett glowered as he turned to his CO. “Sir, please tell me that’s not happening?”

“Sometimes does. Bad practice. If we’re supposed to be the guardians of a better, more equitable life, we can’t permit that. If that’s the case, you, your sister, and her cold-eyed mentor have my full cooperation in dealing with the problem. I have to go out with the better part of a company – there’s a gang that’s been preying on refugees and on settlements on both sides of the border. I should be back in a few days. Tell Lieutenant Parslow they’re in charge until I get back.” Beckett saluted as the Captain walked away.

I nodded and followed Beckett to the building with records of both Patrol Records and Refugee Processing paperwork. We had to go past the armory, impressively stocked with the close-combat war axes, boar spears, sheaves and sheaves of arrows and crossbow bolts, as well as sabers, shields, and the nonlethal weaponry used to subdue criminals who refused to stop fighting but who did not require death – solid oak cudgels that would stun and be used to disarm, the bolts tipped with heavy balls of salvaged rubber that would merely knock the wind out of a target…

Beckett nodded to the soldier behind the desk at the records building. “Giles, my Inquisitorial sister needs a look at our records. Suspicion of illegal refugee tolls, you know how that goes.” The thin woman behind the deck looked at me, unimpressed. I kinda liked it – Ash said that too many people got nervous around the Inquisition, and from what he’d told me they needed people to have just a bit less absolute trust in them. But that glower indicated that she was a little more than unimpressed.

“Well then, the Inquisitor can look through the records if she pleases. Rank?”

“Apprentice River Donovan, Circle of Inquisition.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed and her mouth quirked upwards. “Well, Apprentice Druid, I think you’ll find that you’re of too low a rank to demand anything of things under Stewardship control – and your brother isn’t an officer, so he can’t order it either. If you bring me written orders from Captain Connors…”

And here I’d thought Ash was kidding about the political tensions between Stewardship and Circles being straight-up counterproductive at times. He’d written out an order that could be presented with his seal, as a Mentor-rank Druid. “Right. I do have a written order from my mentor.” I pulled the little letter out of my satchel and Giles looked over it and grunted.

“Can’t stop you. Go ahead.”

Beckett smiled. “Right, let me show you around the archives to help you get things together a bit.”

“You can’t.” That idiot at the desk was talking again, for some reason. “Jurisdiction problem. If you, a non-commissioned officer of the Guard, start helping the Inquisition, there will be political fallout, and it could cost you your career.” I paused, and realized that Giles might be attempting to be obstructive but she had probably inadvertently saved my ass. Archdruid Belladonna still wanted me and Ash to fail and if I was found letting Guard break protocol and jurisdiction that could be all she needed.

“Right. Thanks, Beck. I’ll take it from here.”

**Ash**

I glowered at the paper. Slightly irregular donations from the same group of six soldiers. Three privates, a corporal, a sergeant, and a lieutenant. I’d have to look those names up at the fort. They’d been riding back and forth whenever they had leave, over the course of about a year, and donating chunks of money or trade goods to the school, which had themselves been sold and used to fund things. Technically still legal – I’d known a salvager back in Eureka who donated reforged scrap to schools to save them on construction, but some of the things they were donating were definitely not things you came by in salvage. Maybe by looting during the most brutal days of the Crusade, but those were long since over – and I knew full well that there weren’t a lot of Crusade veterans in the Eastern Sierra. Only three, actually. A captain, a colonel I had a serious grudge with for being a scorching idiot, and a very grizzled sergeant. None of them matched up with the people who’d been donating. And the donations had come in every two or three weeks – not scheduled, as though they were waiting for other factors.

Maybe they’d just been excessive in force on bandits – I knew there were a few such marauders who liked raiding both sides of the border – but I seriously doubted you’d be able to get this kind of money off of Nihilons or common bandits. People fleeing with what few valuables they had in hopes of being able to bribe mercenaries to look the other way or to pay processing fees – which didn’t exist – might have been able to muster this kind of money, if you combined it with combat trophies from border skirmishes, or the kind of raiders that existed on the border. Standard rules for capturing them had been suspended – too much fear that they’d start another war, on purpose, to be able to pillage further.

I copied the objects of interest in my investigations book and thanked the admin, who smiled. “Name’s Haley. If you need me, I’ll be around.” I thanked her, then nodded. “Ash, if you need to send for a specific inquisitor.” I unhitched Quincy and started trotting towards the town’s archives.

**River**

I’d retrieved the records I needed. Patrol records for everyone on base, and refugee processing records. Ash had told me to gather both. He hadn’t been totally sure if what we’d find was a legitimate case of donating loot from the especially dangerous raiding groups in this region, or theft from the desperate. I did see a lot of notes on patrols that soldiers engaging the bandits in this region had in fact recovered no little amount of money from them. I unhitched Daisy and began riding towards the town Archives, where Ash had said he’d meet me.

His face remained impassive when he saw me walk into the library, but he gestured for me to sit down next to him. He didn’t speak as we began comparing the donation schedule, amounts, names, and the patrol notes, refugee dates, and similar together. The older man was intense – dark face set in a calm look of concentration as he leafed through the pages. Then he spoke. “The donations from the enlisted all seem to come right after patrol or border skirmishes against Randaynian mercs…lot of listed loot from bandits or from mercenaries. Only the officer seems to be listed as on base during a lot of refugee arrivals.”

I nodded. “Right, so he’s fleecing them?”

“Maybe. Double check when his donations are, as well as when those refugees leave.”

I did, and there seemed to be a much shorter process for refugees he processed than that many others did. I said as much to Ash, and his demeanor grew colder. “Alright. His name is Lieutenant Grant, right?”

I nodded, a bit nervous. He spoke again. “Good. We’re returning to the fort and arresting an officer of the Guard. That’ll cause increased jurisdictional tension but I’m not leaving that alone.” He stood up and copied down both sets of information and correlations again, then went back out to the hitching posts and saddled back up.

As we rode to the fort, I saw the expression again that meant he was ignoring the pain of his old wounds as we rode. “Hey Ash? Is the trouble we’re about to cause worth it?”

He glanced at me. “I think so. People coming here to get away from the violence and depraved cruelty of our rapidly collapsing eastern neighbor don’t need to be fucked over further.”


	16. Malthusian Heresy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and River are on another assignment, and Ash has misgivings

**Ash**

It had been several months since we’d submitted the evidence and gotten Grant arrested. He’d bitched about the Inquisition’s flimsy evidence, but he’d been held in custody at first, then when the Guard’s oversight forces had checked in on the refugees that been registered as having interacted with them it was determined that the man had taken a fair bit from them and pretended it was a processing fee. They’d only found out later that no such thing existed and would have been illegal, but hadn’t thought they’d be believed. When that had come to light, the corrupt lieutenant had been tried and convicted in a military court. Sentence was demotion and discharge, followed by time in a penal labor group.

It had seemed a bit harsh until I’d hit up my old contacts in the secular intelligence groups. Apparently the situation in Randaynia was worsening – we had killed the monster in the crusade, or struck a mortal blow, and now it was reaching the tipping point of total collapse. We needed reliable individuals at the border to help deal with the upcoming flood of refugees and the increasing risk of retaliatory attacks by the enemy troops. Grant’s sentence wasn’t just about him – it was about making it clear to everyone at those garrisons that doing their jobs right and honorably counted now more than ever and that any deviation from that would be tolerated even less than usual.

However, there were plenty of problems. As with every time refugees happened, in Arcadia or in the Old World, there were certain idiots who started citing Malthus. The difference was that now, that was a highly heretical outlook on one’s fellow human beings who needed somewhere safe to go. Having looked at the numbers I admitted to myself that we’d likely wind up invading Randaynia again, this time to seize what remained of the territory and reform how it managed resources, execute the bosses, and help settle people there safely to live and work, to make sure we could keep production up to meet the demand of resources that were going to be required. Which wouldn’t be hard – with the collapse coming, the bosses’ ability to control their mercenaries would be limited, and without anyone to lead them, they’d start squabbling amongst each other and break off into small groups the Guard could deal with.

In the meantime though, River and I, along with a number of other Inquisitors, were being sent to arrest the most vocal individuals speaking against aiding the refugees for heresy. We were told that bringing them in alive was of the utmost importance, and that as per usual heresy charges it would be resolved with a normal penal work sentence unless they doubled down by committing blasphemy – aka actually starting to commit crimes against the ex-Randaynian populace who were living in Arcadia now. For the most part.

Which brought us to the work of the day. Namely, that there was a Senator, Ambrose Hyacinth, who was committing the Malthusian Heresy in a VERY public manner and arguing that the Steward General deploy the Guard to keep the refugees away from the border, in absolute defiance of both the oath of military service the Guard took, the Stewardship goals, the Arcadian constitution, and the doctrines of Gaian faith. And while I was working hard not to let it show – I had a reputation to maintain, after all, the idea that any of the Earth Mother’s children would be left to their fate by soldiers of Her people was absolutely enraging.

I glanced at River, and felt another wave of rage. People just as vulnerable as she was, people just as scared, just as in need of help, as she and her brother had been when my squad had pulled them out of that hellhole. 

Said Senator was probably fully aware of how heretical his proclamations were – and he was drawing no small amount of attention by freely admitting that the Faith’s involvement in policing such ideas was dangerous and dampening Arcadia’s ability to control its own fate. As though the discovery of the Faith of Gaia wasn’t the reason Arcadia’s “fate” hadn’t been that of the Old World, as if discovering it wasn’t what made us different from the Randaynians to begin with!

Arresting him for heresy openly would only serve to make him a martyr for those who agreed with his outrageous views, while assassination, if discovered, would stir up no end of chaos between the Druidic Circles, Senate and Stewardships. But what he was doing right now meant that the Inquisition, and thus the Faith’s ability to prevent further Calamities, might well be abolished if he got his way in the long term, to say nothing of the thousands of innocents who would die if he was allowed to enact his heretical policies in the short term. Despite my distrust of Belladonna and her desire to scorch both River and I completely, I had other plans to get a new Archdruid of Inquisition. It definitely wasn’t worth risking the disbanding of the Circle of Inquisition and, at the rate of some of what he was saying, a serious loss of political power for the Circle of Faith. Which would lead to a further loss of their role, as many religions of unsubstantiated deities had lost power in the old world – while many of them were oppressive and deserved their loss of power, Gaia’s could not afford to if we wished to keep Her healthy and her people safe. And after this Senator, and a bloc he kept together, successfully barred the Circle of Faith’s Archdruid – the most powerful of the three Circles’ Archbishops, Alice Oakhart – from the hearings on the matter, she’d contacted Archdruid Belladonna, of Circle Inquisition, and asked the Inquisition to deal with the heresy.

Thus, while I had never done this to a Senator or Steward before, I was carrying out orders of assassination and making sure it looked like the man had simply been careless with some of his vices. Which fortunately for us included nighttime boat rides over the bay in the outskirts of the capitol – waters full of dangerous wildlife, the Humboldt Squid. They went into feeding frenzies and devoured anything that got close when something fell in and moved in a way that indicated distress. Bad enough that people weren’t allowed out into the water to swim during the season when they came close. They’d dispose of the body. I felt sick at the concept. Murder for heresy? That was supposed to be a matter of arrest and then turning them over to the Circle of Faith to help them understand what they were doing wrong. But if this one was actively trying to destroy that power, he wasn’t likely to listen. And of course Belladonna had sent for us – doubtless hoping we’d either refuse so she could charge us with Failure to Preform Sacred Duties or, far more likely, hoping we’d kill him and succeed in ridding her of a potential future headache while also getting caught – meaning she could deny we were ordered to do anything and turn us over to be executed for treason. Which meant that if I wanted to protect my apprentice, I had to get comfortable swallowing my discomfort with this, and make sure that not only did Senator Hyacinth died, but that he died and it looked like a tragic accident.

**River**

As we rode closer to the capital, I envied Ash his talent at ignoring his emotions completely. Mine were a tempestuous nightmare swirling around in my head. There was a flood of refugees expected in the months since we’d gotten Grant arrested, and the man had gotten a fair trial and been cashiered from the Guard – with Beckett getting offered his commission, no less – and Arcadia was gearing up to accept refugees en masse from the now collapsing country of my birth.

Relief that my own vile nation of birth would come down, worry for any friends and their families who still lived there – if any of them had even survived the Crusade, since Ash had been pretty clear that the Guard had started straight up wrecking the place, fear at the thought of how many might have been enslaved when their parents were slaughtered, or alongside their whole families when and if they couldn’t pay their bills after the war. Many hadn’t, many farms, shops, smithies, carving studios had been destroyed and many mines collapsed by the outraged Arcadian troops during their assault. Ash had admitted that that had been an order to prevent Randaynia from ever being able to economically recover, hoping that they’d collapse. And now it finally seemed to be working.

But the collateral damage for innocent people still living there would be horrific, even if the soldiers carrying out that order hadn’t known it. I still carried scars from my time as a slave, and that had been before the poverty following the war would have made for quite the glut in the market for enslaved labor. And from that nightmare, the Condors had spotted thousands of people desperately fleeing as the mercenaries suddenly started turning on their bosses, realizing that the collapse of Randaynia meant there would be little money of value to pay them. The violence of the mercenaries suddenly following captains instead of contractors, the poverty, the desperation, meant that thousands of people were now flooding towards the Arcadian border hoping for the best – or I guess striking towards the Bayou Confederacy if they were closer to the eastern edge and the assorted individuals in the swamp regions.

But that was beside what was really troubling me. I was about to assassinate someone. It wasn’t the target that bothered me so much – he thought people like me, kids who had lost their families and were treated like animals to be trained to be useful to our betters, or people who were treated as vermin who shouldn’t be allowed to breed or live or be happy simply because they fell behind on bills, should be left out to starve or be raped, slaughtered and have their bodies looted by mercenaries that the collapsing regime of the Randaynian bosses could no longer keep in check simply for having the gall to be born on the wrong side of the border, raised with a culture different from Arcadia’s – even if the culture of my birth had problems, I and most of the refugees I’d met had been eager to unlearn it.

Ash hadn’t been subtle about his ideas of why we were being sent. We were deniable and expendable to Belladonna, but Ash at least had a reputation for getting the job done and he’d been abundantly clear that he intended to make me similarly too valuable to throw away until Ash was dealt with.

And on some level, I even understood why we were doing what we did. The man’s death would keep the Faith in power, which meant that Arcadia would continue serving the interests of Gaia, and the environment. All those people would be taken care of and no one would dare to demand the people just as I had once been be allowed to die because we weren’t considered valuable enough to be worth saving with the loudest voice for that worldview gone.

But I was still about to feed a man I’d never met to fucking squid in cold, dark waters for political reasons and that was making me more than mildly sick. I was shaking as I practiced my archery, and as Ash and I carried out our now-nightly practice in the cold waters around the capital at night, rowing a quiet canoe to get into position and observe the man. 

“Mentor, may I ask a question?”

Ash’s face revealed the same implacable distance as it always – no, not always, I realized that now. He took that look when he was dealing with emotions he found difficult. He wasn’t sure about this. But he nodded.

“Are we sure what we’re doing is right?”

We were in a quiet place, an Inquisitorial sanctum, completely alone. No one was listening in. Ash thought about it, then answered. “I don’t know. Honestly, River? There’s a lot about this that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve preformed assassinations before, as an Adept. But the last people I’ve done it to were a Randaynian merchant who came looking for his runaway slaves, and an…well, and an old friend who went a little mad after the crusade. He was the one behind the fires in Yosemite, about a year ago. But I think that the dangers in letting him live and destabilize the Arcadian system, removing the Faith’s ability to protect the vulnerable, is going to harm a lot more people than dealing with him. But such work does no one any pride. We’re Inquisitors – we serve Gaia as best we can, and sometimes that means doing the awful but necessary thing. I do believe that the Faith retaining power is necessary. But I don’t know if what we’re doing to ensure it is right. You’ll have to decide that for yourself. Tomorrow, there’s an open house with questions for him from citizens. We’ll talk to him then. Or rather, you will. Without your Inquisitorial gear. You’ll look like any other citizen. Talk to him. See what you think. And if you truly cannot bring yourself to attack him, given what he says, you’ll have some meditation exercises with the Circle of Faith the night of the actual operation. And I’ll do it alone. I won’t make you take part – especially since this isn’t the kind of work Apprentices are supposed to be assigned to begin with.”

Ash was letting me choose. I didn’t know how I felt about asking him to shoulder it for me, but I wasn’t being asked to decide right now. I’d get to talk to the man tomorrow as just a normal refugee. And I’d decide for myself what this was worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See this was where the "unsubtle criticism" jokes really start coming in


	17. Speeches and Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River goes to a town hall and gives a big speech, "unsubtle political criticism" jokes are made by my beta reader, and Ash suprises River.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an all River chapter

River

I was dressed as a normal civilian girl with what we’ll call a middling understanding of Arcadian fashion – or at the very least a middling budget for wardrobes. I had a forest green tunic with longer sleeves, a medium length woolen skirt and a decent set of strappy sandals. Functional business casual for a town hall talk with a Senator and my Apprentice-marked Emerald Eyes were being stowed by Ash. I had slipped through a crowd of protestors shouting about the cruelty he was attempting to condone, some of whom had the scars of Randaynian slaves, others were clearly refugees who’d escaped ahead of the slavers, still others were clearly devout Gaians and even more were natural born Arcadian citizens who had no desire to see anyone left to the wolves.

But they were protesting outside and I needed to get through. I felt more vulnerable in this outfit than I did in Inquisition uniform, which was obviously intentional. People were looking at me. A lot of them. But I pushed forward. Ash wanted to give me a fair chance to see the man we were supposed to be assassinating and had informed me that I’d have the right to decide if I wanted to come on the mission tonight after I talked to him. Inquisitors below Adept rank weren’t supposed to do those sorts of missions anyway. Best of all, citizens had a right to speak on issues after the Senator left, meaning that someone was bound to argue against the Senator’s position.

The senator was speaking.

“And now, thirteen years after the disasterous end of the Crusade, we finally see the downfall of our most vile enemy. Thanks to the blows those brave Arcadian soldiers struck, the barbarity of the vile Randaynian regime and state is falling! But we lost thousands of brave young men and women of the Guard, idealists of exactly the sort Arcadia needs, to accomplish it. In exchange we got back refugees – many of whom our actions created. Many of whom needed to be educated, clothed, housed and kept together at expense and many of whom have only recently begun to be worthwhile in regards to Arcadia’s needs. And now, the Stewards, the Faith and the bulk of my honored comrades in the senate demand that we expend further resources, be willing to risk more soldiers, to accept even more Randaynians into our nation. Does Gaia truly want us to overextend, Druids of Faith? To risk overreaching our resources for people who never gave her the proper honor? Especially since many of the Steward General’s plans for fixing the resource deficit this will leave us with involves expanding our borders to attempt to better husband the land of Randaynia after the collapse has completed? Is it really worth the risk and the loss we will have to suffer to save a handful of people who do not share our faith, our ideals, and have no notion of how a nation that believes in inherent rights regardless of profit works? People who will likely put little effort into learning a better outlook, and only put out token displays of interest for the benefits of Arcadian citizenship?”

I wanted to laugh at the sheer level of hypocrisy in that, actually. Given that the core thrust of his argument hinged on the idea that it would take a greater expenditure of resources than we’d get out of it to save the refugees, the idea of condemning them for having been raised in a hardcore capitalist hellscape where the only genuine virtue we were all taught was the sanctity of upholding your end of a contract – then again, even the bosses held their own accountable when they failed at that, as it was the only thing really keeping that society together. In addition the entire idea that the refugees would put out no effort to better themselves or unlearn shitty ideologies was fucking rich coming from a man who had reinvented just about all the things he raved against from the other direction, even with the education to actually know better.

Was that all we were to this guy? Barbarians who would never be anything else because many of us were raised with shitty ideas? People it wasn’t worth the effort to educate or help instead of letting us all die because we’d been born on the wrong side of a line? He took a few questions.

“Senator Hyacinth, do you realize that what you’re saying is itself a variant of the Malthusian heresy?”

“Yes, I do. I also reject the idea that the Faith simply gets to shut down any conversation they think is wrong even when it’s in the best interest of the Arcadian people and government to discuss the issue rationally. That however is an issue for another day, and one that will take years and years of hard work to fix.”

He was trying to begin a movement to unseat the faith, which surprised me in my reaction: a rush of visceral anger. I wasn’t sure why. My own feelings on the Faith were complicated and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it’s power but I felt genuinely accepted by most of the Faith Druids, and as religious types went I’d never met a devout Gaian who wasn’t kind. Even during the resettlement period when both I and Beck had been placed with quite a few of them as foster parents before finally being safely settled. I knew that one of the doctrines of the Faith was that one felt Gaia’s love in many ways, among them through the kindness of family, whether adoptive or blood.

Maybe I was a believer after all. I’d work through that later.

“Senator Hyacinth, what do you say to the people who point out that the refugees fleeing Randaynian violence are in all likelihood not among those who fought against us during the crusade, and are just desperate for safety and the opportunity to do better than their country would let them?”

That surprised me from the sharp tone and the voice that it came in. I looked and saw a man in civilian dress uniform of an Arcadian Guardsman who was missing one of his eyes. “I fought against the Randaynians during the Crusade. I saw things inflicted on innocent people you can’t begin to imagine. I see several refugees now so I won’t go into detail, but I lost an eye fighting to stop atrocity and do not regret it. I resent you using my fallen brothers and sisters in arms to make your proclamations that these people aren’t worth it.” There was a stir following that statement, until I heard hisses of disapproval. The senator’s cronies were starting to talk a bit.

“Bold words about conscience from the Scourge of Salt Lake.” My breath caught in my throat and I realized I was standing very, very close to a very dangerous individual. Ash had told me a few war stories. The Scourge of Salt Lake had been known for exceptional brutality, even by Crusade Standards. He hadn’t taken many prisoners, for certain. He’d been stripped of rank and disgraced and…

Then I saw a slight flicker of satisfaction cross the Senator’s face. It would be impossible to notice to almost anyone. Most people couldn’t see such slight flickers of emotion on someone’s face. Most people would have thought he was concerned by the somewhat insane man who’d probably only recently finished his term in a penal unit appearing and openly expressing loathing of him. But then again. Most people hadn’t spent the almost a year with Ash for company, trying to tease out any emotion from the implacable Druid’s face. Hyacinth might be good at hiding his emotions, but he wasn’t Ash. I knew what I saw.

He knew where this would go. He knew that if his opposition seemed to consist of a disgraced officer and a few religious zealots he’d be able to make his opposition look insane and shield himself that way.

Which meant that I was going to do a thing I’d tried to avoid doing for years. Make my presence known when Beck, my foster parents, and Ash weren’t there to reassure me.

I linked my fingers and prayed, not because I was certain I believed but merely because the gesture was one I’d come to associate with meditation exercises I did with Ash when I got anxious. “Senator. I’m a naturalized Arcadian citizen who was rescued during the crusade by the Guard. My brother and I were rescued from slavery by soldiers in Arcadian colors. I had been beaten bloody earlier in the day when I saw the Arcadian battle flag and I burst into tears I was so relieved that my brother and I would be safe. And now I’m here, having gone to an Arcadian school, been adopted by Arcadian parents, with a brother serving in the Arcadian Guard.” I thought about Vanessa and realized it was probably better not to mention that my family had owned a slave – even if it had been only on paper, and even then only until we could smuggle her safely across the border, in the presence of either this man or the Scourge. “Are you telling me, and by extension all Arcadians who came here from that horrific regime, that it would have been better for us to be left there? Whipped, branded, treated like livestock because people fell behind on their bills? Or “fostered” by a place that pretty much sees people who are niether blood nor useful as animals?”

Hyacinth opened his mouth, but I was furious and kept going. “I have been there, Senator. I have gone through all that. I came here after being rescued and unlearned so much so fast and managed to make a life for myself in Arcadia. But apparently you see me as unwanted trash because it took a lot to get me to where I am now – and I’m neither your blood nor useful to you. How are you any different than the men the Guard fought? And worse – you come from a place where you’re taught better. You’ve never been in a position where any shortcoming could doom you like that. And you want to leave the people who are fleeing for their lives after having suffered everything I have and more in the collapse to the tender mercies of mercenaries? Maybe I was lied to by my rescuers, Senator. Maybe Arcadia has just as many monsters as Randaynia did if you were elected to represent anyone.” I paused a beat. “Or maybe Arcadia deserves better than you’ll ever be. As do the people coming here for safety.”

I was being drowned out by the roars of the crowd by the time I finished, and began walking out, a few people looking to me and cheering as I went, many others shouting condemnations against Hyacinth. I was shaking, the idea that even here there were people who didn’t think we were worth it, didn’t think we were worth anything, just because we’d been taught wrong and came from the wrong place…I was gulping down air in deep breaths when I realized I was having a panic attack and that the attention, the emotion, it had all just been too much.

I ran out of the building, finding a quick, quiet grove and dug my fingers and toes into the soil and breathed the way Ash taught me. “I’m fine. My name is River Damien. I’m 25. My adoptive sister and my brother and I are all in Arcadia, in various places. My first set of parents are dead, as is my little sister. My adoptive parents are alive. I’m an Apprentice in the Druidic Circle of Inquisition. My mentor’s name is Ash Roanoake. He’s cold blooded but he cares about me. Gaia…”

The litany kept going – little facts about my life and the people I was attached to were part of the ritual for calming myself down. I quickly rattled off a few prayers as well, and realized that I was slowly calming down with the whispers in the night, the birds, the chittering of nocturnal animals and insects….

I was safe. I focused on the mental picture of my adoptive parents smiling and cheering me on as I was accepted into the circle, their presence when Beck had finished training, when he’d been made a sergeant….And focused on how that felt. Then my mind turned to Ash, how viciously he’d fought against the Nihilons when I’d been in danger, how he always seemed genuinely proud of me…

Eventually I calmed down enough to head back to the quiet sanctum where Ash was meditating, and noticed that his sword and knife were both bare, and away from him. The light in here was terrible, and I couldn’t see much, but I was pretty sure they were damp. “Ash, I’m back.”

He started, and turned around. “Good to see you. Do you have your answer about him?”

I nodded. “I want to be part of it. Not for political expediency for the church but because he’s an amoral hypocrite whose crap is going to kill thousands of innocent people for his own purposes.”

Ash shook his head. “No. Apprentice, I’m glad you came to that decision, having met him. It makes this sit a little easier on my mind. You’re not coming on the assassination. I realized it while meditating. Killing in cold blood is different than killing in a fight. And that kind of work is restricted to Adepts for a reason. You shouldn’t have to carry that. Not yet.”

He stood up and I felt shocked. “To protect me?”

He shrugged. “Partly. There’s more to it. I don’t know that this should be a thing anyone does, and I’m not going to bring someone along who is as certain as you are for something like this. You remind me of how I was when I joined the Guard for the Crusade – and I did a lot during that war I’m not proud of.”

I paused, and flushed. Ash was trying to protect me. When we stepped out of the Sanctum, he sheathed his weapons and I realized he moved as though in slight pain. “What’s going on, Ash?”

“The final reason you’re not becoming an assassin tonight. There are rites one has to go through to do this sort of work, and I’m not putting you through them.” Ash moved faster than I thought possible ducking behind a tree when a group of people came by and cheered me on.

“That’s the girl who called the Senator out! Talk about a legend.” When they passed, Ash came back out and smiled.

“Seems like you made an impression. I’m proud of you.” I smiled and, remembering how I’d felt in the forest, I hugged him. And for the first time ever, I saw the dark, cold features of Ash Roanoke open in an expression of shock as he hugged back.

“Thanks for looking out for me, Mentor.”

I felt him hug back, a fatherly – okay it still reminded me of Beck more than either dad I’d had – gesture and he said, “Of course, kid.”


	18. Assassination on Dark Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash carries out the assassination and confesses his own turmoil to someone who will never be able to talk

My paddles made soft sounds as I pushed them through the water. The canoe was quiet, and I didn’t like the risk I was taking the closer I got to the target – and frankly the more I thought about the plan the more I was glad River wasn’t coming. Or maybe the more I wished she had come.

On one hand the maneuver I was about to do was unbelievably scorching stupid and dangerous and I didn’t want River trying to do it. On the other hand, the thing I was about to do was even more stupid with a bad hip and I would have liked her to help me out of the water in the even that I fell in – preferably before the squids got there. They were children of Gaia as well, but dear Mother, I hated those things. Plus, come on, River had a cute date lined up, probably, and I wasn’t going to interfere with that to drag her along for morally questionable work well above her rank on a cold evening with dark water full of homicidal cephalopods all around.

I finally caught sight of the senator’s boat, and heard his voice. I unlimbered my compound bow. I could see perfectly, even in this near-total darkness, partially because the moon was out and partly because I’d dosed myself as hard as I could ahead of time with nighteye – the drug, approved only for Inquisitors, that brutalized your pupils into opening as wide as they could to pick up as much light as possible. I was going to have a brutal headache the next day, as I always did, and probably be more than mildly nauseated – it had a fair few awful side effects. But at least I could see my target – that was definitely Senator Mulbery Hyacinth. I drew back my bow, wondering if I could get him and get him to fall off his boat, but realized that, one, my archery was never that great to begin with and even with the gentle toss of the boat a shot at this distance would be borderline impossible.

I had to row closer, meaning that he’d probably see me. He had a small lamp on his boat, a simple one, and I almost immediately regretted snorting the nighteye I’d used before coming out here. He might be able to flashblind me with the lamp. I pondered pulling out the sunglasses I had but realized I was definitely going to need to get closer before that became even remotely a good idea. The wind whipped across the water and I was glad I was sitting down – it might have off-balanced me, and falling into the dark waters at the moment, with the squid in it, would likely be deadly. The things ate a lot during mating season, and as much as I liked my Inquisitorial leathers, they wouldn’t hold up to the barbed tentacles on those things. Which raised a whole new set of fears that I was very relieved River couldn’t see.

Out here it was just me, my target, and the tentacled spawn of our Mother at her most unhappy, which meant I didn’t have to hide anything. Which was fortunate because the idea of trying to tie up alongside his boat and step over with my bad hip on these choppy waters and get back onto my rickety canoe once he was gone was a little too frightening to hide. I was right. River had no business being here. Not only for reasons related to rank, or because I wasn’t sure I wanted her committing cold-blooded murder because she was ordered to, or even because she thought someone deserved it – honestly her peace with the idea had been a little concerning to me. Senator Hyacinth was a heretic and a heartless piece of shit but to murder him still turned my stomach.

I took a moment to think on what I needed to do. My hands were shaking a little bit – my undamaged one, less so, than my good one. A sign, maybe? That the part of me that had been hurt for the war, one of the physical manifestations of my regrets of the worst things I had done, was telling me that doing this was necessary to make sure that the Crusade’s work hadn’t been for nothing, that the mission I’d had then was still the mission I had now. To do the will of Gaia and protect as many of her children as I could, even if it required dark work on dark waters some nights.

I rowed a little faster, even as the Senator’s boat seemed to be slowing down. The wind wasn’t high, but the Senator was clearly pretty okay at sailing. I finally drew up to him and managed to latch my boat to his, even as he turned around and grappled for his lamp upon seeing me, I managed to kick it into my own boat, out of his reach, even as my eyes were briefly flashed and I reeled from the brutal shivs of light that had been driven into my far-too-sensitive eyes.

Scorch it, this is why I hate any mission that requires me to dope up on nighteye ahead of time.

We hit a patch of turbulence and I screamed a little bit in sheer panic at the idea of going off the boats and falling into the water – I’d seen the sleek, eerie shapes of the squid moving around. I managed to regain my balance and my eyes finally got back on track and I zeroed in on the senator, who was now pointing a fishing bow at me and fumbling to nock an arrow while I drew out my sword and hacked his bow in two before he could finish. He staggered back and fumbled for a fishing knife to defend himself, and I snarled, just wanting to get off this miserable boat and get back to shore where my body’s damaged frame wasn’t likely to get me eaten.

He froze when he saw my outfit and then grabbed up a senator’s arming blade – a slender little rapier that many politicians carried as defense against assassins, but then he saw my face, finally, and froze again.

“Oh. It’s you.” I was still panting a bit. “I thought you were a lot less – panicky? I never imagined the Cinder would scream like that when he was nervous. They say the war pretty much burned all the emotion out of you.”

Some distant part of my increasingly nervous mind quietly marveled at the sheer nerve of this prick being able to throw lines like that and make fun of my panicked screams when I was here to kill him and he knew it. He was still talking. “Then again…I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? You don’t have a reputation to maintain against me. I’m never going to get to talk about anything I see, am I?” he chuckled, clearly choking up a bit. “Heh. My cousins kept telling me that if I was going to say things that pissed off the Inquisition, I should probably stop going out alone on these little jaunts at night. She’s right, and I’m sure with the squid and everything else, she’s the only one who will ever know it, isn’t she?” I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to hear about the man’s sister, I didn’t want to think about the people who would be left behind to mourn him.

“Wait, why am I even talking to you about it, Cinder? What am I hoping to affect in you? You clearly aren’t going to be an admirer, nor even an opponent who respects me, and I’m pretty sure that even by Inquisitorial standards you’re alarmingly without pity.”

“You don’t really have much hope in hell of duelling me, but you picked up a sword.” Wow, that came out flat even for me. Gaia, guide me. Why am I suddenly going so flat in front of someone that I have absolutely no need to preform for?

“Good point, Inquisitor.” He dropped the blade. “I don’t know why I bothered. I saw you at the blade tournament for the Inquisition, the Senatorial Wardens, the Arcadian Guard, and I know full well that I have no hope in hell of beating you. Or even taking you with me. So you know what? Scorch you. You won’t even get the ability to tell yourself that I was armed or a threat. You want to kill me? You have to do it cold.”

I stepped forward, cursing my weak hip internally and hoping that the slight stumble would be taken for just reactions to the tossing boat. “Weren’t you the one who just said you don’t think I have the emotions to care?”

He laughed a bit, the mad laugh of someone who knew he was dead and had nothing further to hide. “Of course. So, Cinder, let me guess. That girl at the town hall, the one with the collar scars? She was an apprentice. She certainly got there just in time to ruin the advantage I’d gotten by paying a war criminal to criticize. The Scourge of Salt Lake came cheaper than you’d think, by the way. Had a lot of grudges against the concept of Randaynians. Gave me some advantages to contrast myself to a real criminal if I was going to talk about how insane things were.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

He chuckled. “Because as I said. Neither of us have anything to hide. I could give you a big breaking speech about how I think you’re a hypocritical sociopath and an unrepentant murderer who believes your outright murders for your cause were just but when I simply want to close the door and let people live or die by their own ideology, suddenly you come to murder me in the dead of night. I could go all I want about resources and how much time it’ll take to educate them, but we both know the truth is that the Randaynians are too warped to save, that the Faith insists on pushing Arcadia down irrational paths, and that as vile as they may find my willingness to write off thousands of “innocent” Randaynians…I pulled your file, Cinder. They are perfectly willing to throw you aside just for being a Guardsman – and I’m sure that they’re hoping you fail in this mission.”

I threw back my head and laughed, wildly. There was no sense in hiding anything now, he was quite right. “Not at all! I know the Archdruid of Inquisition. I am quite certain she wants me to succeed, then get caught so she can deny her involvement and turn me over for trial and likely execution while maintaining plausible deniability.”

“And you think being part of a group so interested in destroying anyone who opposes them isn’t going to bite you in the ass when it’s led by someone like that? You just admitted she wants you dead, and you still do her bidding?”

I smiled and shook my head. “No. I’m doing what I believe needs to be done to protect the vulnerable. Don’t worry though. As you say, we might as well be honest with each other. Like anyone so eager to turn on their friends for any reason, Archdruid Belladonna’s time will come. And I will be the one to tell her when it has. But her and I certainly agree on Malthusian heretics, and on the idea of deciding that people aren’t worth helping. She might well think that the Randaynians are too steeped in sin to ever be good Inquisitors, but she doesn’t want to let them all die, either. But yes, in her way, she’s every bit as bigoted, self-righteous and wrapped up in a totally unwarranted sense of moral superiority as you.” I took a deep breath of the sea-salted air and listened to the waves. “Holy Gaia you have no idea how good it felt to get to say that out loud. Thank you for this time, Senator.”

He started nervously staring at me, as though he realized I was about to kill him.

I did last rites, then I did what I came to do. I won’t talk much about the details, but suffice to say I ensured he wouldn’t have to feel what the squid did with the body. I unhitched, swaying, and began rowing back to shore. Regret was more subdued than I’d expected, though to force it down I made myself think hard on the scars I’d seen on River when I was teaching her, the way she’d flinched, as well as the way my apprentice had grown and lived and loved while she became an Arcadian. If that wasn’t the will of Gaia at work, I didn’t know what was and if the Senator had wanted to live, he shouldn’t have interfered with Her will like that.

And if the Archdruid decided in her incredible self-righteousness, that River wasn’t a good enough person to be a Druid, she and I would settle things as well. 


	19. River and Tyler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River's date with Tyler, while Ash does shady things

**_River_ **

I was quietly seething at the fact that Ash had told me that I could decide and then decided for me that I wasn’t coming on the mission tonight. I knew he had some moral reservations about the job, and I knew I should too, but the idea of what Hyacinth had been spouting bothered me so much that…

And why had he pretended I’d have a choice? No, he hadn’t been pretending, he’d probably just changed his mind in that typical Ash way of his, where he weighed shit in his own head, gave no one any clue about what he thought and then acted on decisions he’d made without a by-your-leave from anyone else – I mean, yes, I was his apprentice but that didn’t mean I wanted choices taken away from me like…

Wait, no. I had chosen to be an Inquisitor, and I had chosen that having to obey a Mentor when they arbitrarily decided something was something I would be willing to put up with for a while if it let me achieve that. Ash had never abruptly gone back on something, meaning that this job was bothering him a lot more than he was letting on.

And since I’d done such a spectacular job of ruining Hyacinth’s reputation in front of all those people, something that had clearly excited Tyler, I was now going out with my delightfully horny reporter friend…Ash had told me to wear normal civilian clothing until the uproar around here died down a little, so I had picked out a nice long skirt and an easygoing top – which of course was in polar contrast to Tyler’s…what exactly was the outfit they’d picked me up in?

Let’s see…they’d dyed their weirdly swept-looking pixie cut even brighter, they were wearing a very short, very elegant orchid purple skirt while the sleeveless, fern green button-up they wore on top was clearly a much more masculine fashion, even if they had added studs along the collar. All of it was brightly colored and cute. They were also showing quite a lot of skin of the same golden brown hue as autumn leaves, and whatever the Wastes they had done with their makeup was bringing out the gold flecks in their green eyes and blending their freckles in with the overall look to a degree that I was absolutely certain wasn’t fair.

Their eyes sparkled a bit when they looked at me and they smiled. “River. Come on. I know I can put on an appearance, but you really shouldn’t leave your mouth open that wide around me.”

I blinked and closed my mouth. “Right, you look. Good.”

“Well, when I’m dressing up for an obvious interview I have to tone it down. But when it’s a more…private…interview I figure I should make up for it. Come with me, I want to show you the sights.” I had honestly no idea what that meant but I was kind of excited to find out. I hadn’t been old enough back in Randaynia, and for a long time I lived in fear that any sexual experience I had wouldn’t be by choice, then after my rescue I’d dedicated myself to finding a place here but wow, was Tyler good at making me wonder.

I followed the gorgeous reporter who was chatting me up easily and eagerly. “So, River. Why’d Ash leave you with me?”

“He had something to do that I wasn’t allowed to be part of. For Inquisition-rules related reasons.” That wasn’t enough to get anyone into trouble.

“When’s he getting back?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Tyler walked past me and pointed out a tea shop. “Why don’t we grab something here. Let me see what your tastes are.” The little smirk on their face as they said it was a little much, but it was cute. I ordered the sweet peach tea – I liked the imported stuff from the Bayou Confederacy better, but they brewed it quite well here all the same. Tyler was more interested in chai spice, and then dumped enough honey in it to do very strange things to the tea vs. sweetener ratio, and I realized that I was rambling in my head a little bit.

“So, what kind of reporting do you normally do, Tyler? Last time we talked you asked me a lot of questions and I didn’t get much out of you.”

The breathing punk statement looked me dead in the eye and had the unmitigated gall to reply, “I’m actually very boring compared to the stories some people have.”

“Oh come on I know I’m not fully trained yet but even an apprentice Inquisitor can call bullshit that obvious.”

“No, really. You ever snorted a mix of rattlesnake venom and powdered opium then screwed a boxwood bush while out of your mind? Me neither but I promise some of the drifters I grew up around have.”

That got my attention for the sheer, utterly bizarre nature of what had just been said. “Where the Wastes did you grow up?”

“Eh. Some get raised by Randaynians, some get raised by scavengers south of Bay Hills where completely insane people sometimes just freaking show up at your camp and your parents just go with it because letting them have some food in exchange for some material they aren’t using is actually a pretty good deal. I’m not complaining.”

I shook my head, utterly confused. “So, wait. You came from a group of scavenger nomads, how’d you wind up a journalist?”

“Oh, we hosted a member of the Inquisition on his own business for a while, he gave us a good amount of money, left, but he was with our crew for long enough that we got comfortable around him. I asked him so many questions and he hardly answered any of them, but I was like, eleven or twelve. I was going to school a lot – you know, one of those schools that are kept way out there with a small group of Guardsmen, to service the children of people who delve Old World cities for a living. But my parents never quite got comfortable getting me delving ruins, partly because I was absolutely awful at actually delving and a lot better at talking to people. So while our Inquisitor friend wandered with us and Nihilon attacks got a lot less frequent – oh by the way if you think they’re bad in the countryside they used to be every-scorching-where in the old cities before the Inquisition just started straight up wiping them out – I was asking him questions all the time, about the Inquisition, about what he thought of what we found, about why he was there, about what was happening in the rest of Arcadia, what he thought about it, what the inquisition thought about it – and at one point he just kinda stopped me and told me that if digging up answers from the long dead old world wasn’t as fun for me as getting answers out of people, and if I was fearless enough to question Inquisitors, that I should try being a journalist at some point. So once I got old enough I started applying and asked my parents if they ever got the Inquisitor’s name.”

“And?”  
“They did. His name was Sage, and he apparently put in a good word for me.”

“That’s incredible. So…why the, uh…off the walls seduction thing?” They paused. Then they shrugged. “Just because someone’s a journalist doesn’t mean everyone necessarily wants to talk to an ex-delver. Lot of us are considered a little too nosy. Plus I look around, I have fun, and being cute makes things a lot easier. What about you, River? I know you might not want to talk about the bad days, but maybe you could tell me what made you decide to become an Inquisitor?”

I blushed a little. “It’s not as good a story.”

“I want to know anyway.” I took a breath and sipped my iced peach tea. “I grew up in a pretty nasty place, yeah? But they talked a lot about how “free” Randaynia was because we weren’t those absolute madmen in Arcadia whose government kept them from talking about new ideas or speaking “objectively” about the environment or similar. But my family smuggled a woman – barely more than a kid, really – who we’d bought from a real asshole, and we smuggled her across the Arcadian border so that she could be safe. And after our own rescue by the Guard, I learned a lot more. And all I could think was that if the Faith and the Inquisition are what keep Arcadia from ever being like the place I escaped, like the one that did all those awful things to me, or Beckett, or Vera, they had to be doing something worthwhile. I’d always been curious and liked ferreting out secrets, I’d had to get good at reading voices and facial cues around my owners, and I thought those talents could be pretty useful.”

Tyler smiled. “That’s not a bad story, River. So, what kinds of things do you do in your spare time?”

That sounded less like an interview question. “I write, a little. Sometimes I sing but haven’t done that in a while. Recently I’ve been pestering Ash for more swordplay lessons because I really, really want to get good enough to beat him. That, or I just take Daisy and ride around for a while.”

“Oh?” That infuriating and annoyingly sexy smirk was back at the word “ride,” but they moved it in a different direction. “Isn’t he supposed to be the best blade in Arcadia?”

I glowered. “Right now, yes.”

Tyler gave me a throaty chuckle. “Confident and ambitious. I like that. Alright, well, I can’t help you with your swordplay in any way but if you want to get a little more comfortable moving, I can show you a place I like going when I want to blow off some steam.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that until they clarified, “It’s a party room.”

They led me down the streets of New Eureka and moved me towards a building that I hadn’t seen, then opened the door and ushered me in. The inside was a pretty decent party – pumping music, some strange, slowly changing lights, some decent alcohol – I had never seen the place, and already Tyler was moving to the beat of the music. They held out a hand to me and I took it, slowly moving to the thrumming beat and decided that I was going to give myself this. “Oh, heads up, there is a contract to being here regarding how much time you spend on the generator bikes powering the place. Don’t worry though – doing that is my workout, so I’ve built up a lot of credit.” That explained the fitness, certainly.

I decided to take a shot. “Hey. Tyler. I’ve never kissed anyone before – well, anyone cute, anyway. Mind if I..?”

That grin was back. “I’d love to.” The kiss was warm, gentle, but a little pushy. Like Tyler knew I was going to need to be led along a little and didn’t mind doing it but didn’t want to go too far and scare me. I found myself leaning back in and enjoying it. This was going to be a long, fun night.

***

It was a little after midnight when I met back up with Ash. He looked tired, haunted, and I didn’t want to bother him too much, but he noticed my footsteps all the same. “How was the date with the reporter?”

“Tyler and I had a good time, thanks for asking. How did…”

“Not good, but then jobs like that are never pleasant. It’s done, and with nothing to implicate anything but bad luck. And with that taken care of, we’re going to be sent to the eastern border with several others. Thought you might appreciate the area I picked.”

“Oh?” I was a little sad to leave Tyler so soon, but I had told them that with the Inquisition’s schedule it’d probably be a while before I saw them again.

“Crests. Where Vanessa is, right?”

I made the sign of the roots. Gaia was absolutely with me after today. Everything had gone right.


	20. Crests and Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River and Ash arrive in Crests, there is some serious shit, and a throwaway line in honor of my partner - yes, dear, I'm going to kinkshame you in fiction if you insist on saying you think of jellyfish as a fursona.

**River**

Ash was quiet on the long ride to the Crests – I think he was depressed and still a little shaken from the assassination. Though it was Ash, a man famed for never showing anything, I was getting to know him better, and this quiet was different than the usual disciplined calm he presented when he was meditating. This silence was loud, somehow, like he was using it to drown out his own thoughts.

“Hey, Ash?”

“Yes, Apprentice?” His tone was like smooth ice, as it so often was.

“Are you alright?” He glanced at me, clearly surprised.

“Not really. But I will be. Riding Gaia’s earth helps, especially this time of year. Autumn’s always my favorite season. Even if the aches get worse. How was the date, by the way?”

“It was amazing. Tyler’s really attractive, they really seem to like me, they know I’m new to the whole relationship thing and they take the lead a lot but they’re always asking if what they’re doing is okay so that I have a chance to figure stuff out…Hey, Ash? How do you tell someone…wait.”

Ash’s face split into a genuine grin which would have been significantly nicer had it not been for the context. “Are you seriously asking me, the asexual Inquisitor who is famous all over Arcadia for never showing any emotion whatsoever, for advice on expressing one’s romantic feelings for another person?”

I glowered. “Yeah, I figured out as I said it why that was a bad idea. My bad. So, you’ve traveled more than I have, how long is the ride to the Crests?”

“Honestly not too far – several weeks? Easy terrain, no real nasty areas. I mean there’s some bandits up in the hills but honestly we’ll be arriving in that area not long after the regular Guard sweeps so I’m not too worried about that. And hey, you get to see your old adoptive sister, slash babysitter, slash “slave that your whole family risked themselves to get across the border to safety” so it’s going to be a pretty good week for you.”

I winced. “I hope so. Looking back I just hope she remembers me more fondly than I remember the people you and your squad slaughtered when you rescued me.” I’m pretty sure she would. I had never harmed her and Beck and I had both harried my parents to make sure she made it across the border safely, and even written some of the letters to the Fletchers who’d adopted her. But the more I thought, the more I wondered if my parents had been exploiting her – I’d only been seven when we managed to smuggle her out, I’d be among the last to remember or figure out if anything else had been happening.

Ash’s eyes bored into me, then he shrugged. “I would hope so. But if what you’ve told me is true, she probably will.” His voice was quiet, as though reflecting, then he added, “But from the way you’re looking, at a guess, you’re starting to question if things happened that you never knew about.”

It was easy to forget that as good as Ash was at hiding his thoughts, he was absolutely superb at reading the feelings or thoughts of others if he bothered. Daisy was gently trotting beneath me, and as badly as I wanted to nudge her into a full gallop, Ash had told me that these paths were tricky this time of year, and that going slow would be safer – so we went slow.

“We’ll be sparring on the road, right?”

Ash nodded. “You aren’t going to get out of practice so easily, don’t worry.” I grinned. Meant I could still work towards beating him.

***

Three hours later I was rubbing bruises and realizing that “working towards” did not and never had meant “actually getting there today.”

**Ash**

River was improving, and she got yet closer to actually beating me. Then again, this time that had as much to do with the aches in my hip as it did with her progress. Areas this damp made it worse. Still, I was keeping up with someone much younger and probably every bit as talented as I was even if she lacked anywhere near my experience as a combatant or the skill it honed. Which was reassuring in that it meant I hadn’t lost my biggest advantages yet.

“So, River. Are you worried about meeting Vanessa again?” I was leaning back and checking my actual sword for any sign of rust or dullness, and refilling my canteen from the stream we’d made camp next to.

“A little. The more I think back, the less certain I am that my parents were as good to her as I thought.” I pondered that, then shrugged.

“Not to be too heartless, but they are dead, River, and thanks to you and them, she’s alive and safely in Arcadia. And you’ve become your own person since those days. If she’s got bad memories that means she doesn’t want to see you, that’s fine, but I don’t know that I’d hold you accountable for what your parents did when you were…did you say seven, when she was smuggled over?” 

River nodded. She looked relieved, but I was nervous – I was hoping when I met this young woman River had told me about, I wouldn’t find out that River’s parents had been monsters after all. I didn’t want Vera to have suffered the way my apprentice had – and, admittedly of secondary importance, I didn’t want my apprentice to lose anything left of her illusions – as I had about the Inquisition or the work it did. I did our usual meditation then drifted off – sleep was coming easier, now that the job was over and I had a more comfortable path to head out on.

**River**

The ride was slow going, Daisy was quicker, once we finally got out of the narrow forest paths. We saw a few trade caravans on the way, pulled by donkeys and goats, or even just a few Gaians riding bikes with heavy gears and chains with the saddles loaded heavy with trade goods. Most of them gave the Inquisition a wide berth, even if we weren’t after anyone. Saw a few of the patrol groups – about eight Guardsmen each, marching on the trails to check for bandits.

I never got close to beating Ash on the road, though I felt I was getting clos _er_ each time. The real excitement didn’t happen until we arrived at the gates of Crest City – the eastern edge of Arcadia, all the way in the eastern edge of Arcadian land in what had been Colorado– far side of the Cascades, in the Rockies. We walked past the Guardsmen at the gates, who saluted as we passed, flashing the Inquisition’s credentials as they went. Ash had dropped some explanation about checking on the city’s infrastructure for when the Randaynian collapse came. The guards seemed eager, and offhandedly offered a few reports about skirmishes with some of the mercenaries, but Ash waved him off – despite the battlefield reports he’d mentioned getting from friends in the area.

I was bursting with excited apprehension, but I was learning to imitate Ash on the job – couldn’t let it show, even if nerves and eagerness were making everything far funnier than it should have been. As we walked through the streets I saw the better part of a company of the Guard with lighter quivers and triumphant grins, despite the bandages on some of them, who were cheering about the badassery of the Arcadian forces. I found it funny – somewhat less so when I saw another group of them marching proudly alongside some rescuees in Randaynian slave garb. The soldiers were helping carry a few of the younger refugees, little kids who cheered from the ceramic pauldrons of the burlier Guardsmen.

I smiled and waved, Ash throwing a quiet salute to the Guard with his bad hand.

We made our way to the offices where we were actually expected to inspect and meet with the locals, as well as provide whatever aid the Inquisition could. Social work first. There was a portrait behind the desk in the entrance – a tall, slender woman with a longish nose, straight brown hair, dark gentle eyes and hands that even in a portrait looked accustomed to moving. I’d seen the portrait, and I knew it was probably one of the original Founder Stewards like most of the portraits in Stewardship offices, but I could never remember which one got hung up in social work offices. A few of the office staff stood up as the Inquisition walked in and I flushed – were we that intimidating? Ash kept his usual persona up. “Come on, we’re just here to see what resources you’ve got laid in and what infrastructure you’ve got, and we’ve been sent to help fix any errors we find in infrastructure – no judgements or arrests, we’re all in this part together.”

The man behind the desk smiled and held out his left hand – which Ash clasped with his bad one, with the particular version of non-expression that indicated he was sort of enjoying the other man’s discomfort at gripping the maimed appendage. I couldn’t help but smile – I learned that as much as Arcadians wanted to pretend they were “pure” they still had some of the same discomforts around old disfiguring scarring that many did – and that as it turned out, they were often so ashamed of prejudices that they never just. Scorching. Dealt with the problem. Like Randaynian refugees tended to after we came over and realized our old worldviews needed to change.

Which meant that Ash tended to get more visible flinches out of natural born Arcadians than naturalized ones.

I asked the secretary a question, heart still pounding. “Sir, is Vanessa Fletcher here?” The secretary looked at me, strangely. “Who’s asking?” 

“Just…tell her an old friend is here. With some new colors and some new scars.” The man looked utterly baffled but then looked at Ash, who only nodded quietly.

The man walked out of the room and Ash gestured with his bad hand at the portrait on the wall. “I know from our conversations you haven’t read as much of Arcadian history as I have – though then again, most of the lessons about the Founder Stewards happen before the age you arrived.”

“What does this have to do with what’s happening?”

“Just…our first Caretaker Steward was often quoted as saying to one of the other founders that you learn a lot about yourself through trauma. That it brings a sort of maturity that no one should have to have – but that the best and the brightest she’d met were usually people with their share of scars.”

“So that’s her, is it? Who the hell would she even have said that to? I mean, I always have this feeling that great quotes are never actually said by the people they’re attributed to. How the hell does that one come up in conversation?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. It’s always attributed to her regarding conversations she had with the first Steward-General, but apparently the two of them only ever preserved the quotes that sound good without context for posterity. Though he also wrote that she had a habit of comparing herself to a jellyfish regarding a certain fetish.” I snorted a little, though wondered what the scorch that could possibly mean, and Ash continued. “His own writings indicate that he saved such information, and encouraged his peers to keep similar on him, to keep anyone from idealizing them too much. He believed that people idealizing past leaders leads to societies that don’t change as they should.” Ash’s tone had taken on a pensive note. He glanced back at me, seeming to remember that I was there. “But her quote about trauma seemed like something you’d appreciate. Maybe one to help you realize that you might well understand Vanessa better than you think.”

I nodded, thinking about it. My thoughts were cut short when a young woman with a light smattering of freckles, and bright red hair falling down her back, helping cover the scars on her neck, and the one I knew would be branded into her left shoulder. “River?”

“Van….” I started moving towards her, slowly. “Vanessa, yeah. I made it to Arcadia. Did you know?”

“I thought you’d be dead.”

I shook my head. “I think I should have been. But the Guard pulled Beck and I out.”

Van nodded. “Your parents?”

“They’re dead. My sister too…wait, you were out before Lily was born. I missed you, Van. Are you okay?”

She paused. “I wasn’t for a long time. I had to sort out a lot of what was going on in my head, but the people I was smuggled to were good. They wanted a kid, and they raised me well. And I did pretty well for myself. Maybe not well enough to be Inquisition, but pretty well.” I hugged her.

I didn’t know what had been going on in her head. At some point she and I would talk about what had happened since. But for now…

“So, speaking of which. This is my Mentor, Ash. He’s ex-Guard, in the squad that rescued me, if you can believe it.” Ash waved.

“Hello.” His voice came out quiet, flat. “Good to meet you. River’s told me a lot about you.”

She nodded, a little nervous. “Good to meet you, Inquisitor Ash.”

“Just Ash.”

“Right. So…you’re here to help with preparation?” He nodded. “And if you want to catch up while we do it, you’re welcome to.” 


	21. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another aspect of Druidic training is explored, some more of the Gaian faith is explained, some ominous implications of timeline are brought up

**Ash**

The flood of refugees was still anticipated, but for right now our orders remained the same: remain in Crests and help with preparation. Use the Sanctum there as a place to stay for the duration of the crisis.

Which made sense. I had been a bit too successful of late, as had River – and Belladonna couldn’t want us to keep wracking up successes such as River’s (public) humiliation of Senator Hyacinth prior to his abrupt and unfortunate accident. I couldn’t complain though – it meant I’d be spending the season that consistently had the worst weather for my old wounds in an actual bed, in actual shelter. Plus, it meant that River and I could focus on a part of her education as a Druid that I had been forced to neglect because of how much we’d traveled. Druids were meant to be among the most frequent workers in community gardens and similar – the things that helped feed communities and keep them beautiful. The Faith Druids, in many places, helped regulate hunting, fishing, or similar to keep things in line with the teachings of the faith – but when the Inquisition was there, we took over the latter entirely and helped with the former. The Circle of Faith’s job was to do the work of Gaia in one place, the Circle of Inquisition’s was to make sure no one violated Her law. But all Druids were meant to do a little of both.

So as we began sitting down in the sanctum after our usual meditation and prayer, we moved to the greenhouse and I picked up a trowel with my bad hand. “We’re going to be working here for a time, River. We’ll honor Gaia in other ways – helping grow things and distributing them to the community while we ready ourselves for the main reason we’re here.”

“Wait, I thought this was the Faith Circle’s job?”

“It is and it isn’t. It’s every Druid’s job, but this is an Inquisition sanctum, meaning that while we’re here we take part in this greenhouse. We’ll keep up other areas of your training, but sadly I think one of the reasons the Inquisiton’s gotten as corrupt as it has is that we travel as much as we do – a necessity, and I certainly love it, but it’s hard to admire the Earth as much as we should when we never hold one position long enough to put down roots.” My maimed hand slipped on the trowel’s grip and I cursed before switching hands – someday, my maimed hand would be consistently as useful as my whole one, because I was going to make it that way. At least my hip wasn’t going to screw me on this. I patted the bench next to me, inviting River to sit down.

“We have some things to plant – a few seeds, a few flowers. We’ll be taking care of them every day after our meditation and before we spar. It’s a part of the faith – we can’t go around holding others to Gaia’s law if we do not partake in the same sacraments.” My own mind was thinking back on this lesson with Sage, who’d been absolutely furious when I’d suggested this was below us. Nurturing the earth and the life that grew around it was in fact the point, it was the highest thing we did, he had told me. I tore a decent sized lump of soil from the pot and placed the little root ball of the little flower cutting I had into it, gently patting the earth down around it. River was doing the same, even as I quietly prayed while doing so. I had forgotten how much I actually liked this – consecrating sanctums with plant life.

“So, River. Have you and Vanessa been catching up?”

“A little bit, but not much. Mostly you and I have been running around and she’s been getting Randaynian families processed or any unaccompanied kids set up with decent foster parents. She’s been pretty depressed – the uptick in people coming over is bringing up some bad memories for her.” There was clear tension in her voice, in her posture.

That seemed interesting. It also seemed like evidence of River’s concerns, though. That there had been worse memories regarding her own, dead, parents that she hadn’t been aware of regarding how they’d treated Vanessa. Still, River and I were working on our task and I thought about it. “It may mean nothing. It may mean something. I think those are conversations to have with her, if she wants them.”

River nodded. “I…Is this how you feel about some of the things about me and where I came from? Wanting to know, unwilling to push or ask?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “I am curious. As a Guardsman, I was given my orders and followed them without much question. I know now that I should have asked more, but there’s a lot I suspect. I haven’t asked because it isn’t my place to push you for an answer.” I did want to know if my suspicions were true – then again, from some rumors, I wasn’t sure that I would have room to throw stones. Not after some of the things we’d done during the Crusade.

“I appreciate that, Ash. Someday we’ll probably talk about that. After I find out if Vera wants to talk.”

**River**

I kept working on the garden as I thought about what Ash had said. My parents hadn’t taken part in what had been done to me on Van, had they? They wouldn’t. There was no way. But maybe they had. I hadn’t known them, and certainly I’d learned enough about them from being owned by old business rivals of theirs that maybe I didn’t know as much as I thought – even if I’d dismissed Logan’s contempt for them at the time and had laughed when Ash and his squad had butchered him and Cara.

The trowel opened up the soil pretty well as I packed more seeds into it, and I heard Ash swear. “Got a lot of hard clay packed in here – we’re going to have to go harvest topsoil from out in the woods. Good news is we can give the clay to one of the ceramics shops around here, let them use it to produce something good.” I nodded.

“Ash, do you think Vanessa will hate me, if it really is as bad as I think?” It burst out of me in a sudden surge of panic. I knew what I felt towards the people who’d abused me, and when Logan and Cara’s sixteen year old nephew had had his pretty-boy face split in half by Ash’s saber I’d laughed, even though he himself had never hurt me – just watched and hadn’t done anything. What if things had happened? What hadn’t I known about that I hadn’t helped her with? What had I stood by and allowed because I didn’t know? Had she been hoping for someone to come and bisect my skull along with my family for how my parents had treated her?

Ash cut through my spiraling. “I don’t know how bad you think it is, I don’t know her well enough to say, and I have no idea if anything bad even happened.”

“Did you see her face when I walked in, Mentor?”

“Apprentice she looked like that when she saw me, and you, and the outfits. She, like you, probably dealt with the Inquisition coming by to badger her foster parents from time to time to make sure they were doing a good job unteaching what she’d been taught and making sure they themselves were free of corruption from having trading partners in Randaynia. For all you know she was triggered by the uniform, not your face. Poisoned Sky, Apprentice, take a breath. You won’t know for sure until you’ve talked to her and until you have doing this to yourself is only going to frighten you. Just breathe, work the garden, meditate, and do your best to actually beat me with a blade tonight and you can attend your escalating – and notably, possibly entirely unjustified – sense of guilt regarding her when we have time to sit down and talk.” Ash’s voice wasn’t rushed, it was in the same cadence it always was, his face as impassive as ever, but I saw that eerie storm flash behind his calm, slate eyes that indicated he was feeling quite a bit.

“Mentor, may I ask a serious question?”

He gestured in the affirmative with one hand as he patted the seeds in with the other.

“Do you think anything bad happened? If you had to guess.” I didn’t know why, but I wanted to hear it from Ash.

He tensed, then slowly, agonizingly, nodded. “I’d wouldn’t bet on keeping your illusions if you talk to her. I’m sorry.” I nodded. Hearing it…

Oddly enough, hearing it from Ash almost helped calm me down. If I knew something bad was likely to have happened, I could start actually…No wonder he’d given into that without much of a fight. He wanted me to use the Inquisition training I’d gotten about planning for the worst instead of fretting, and he’d noticed that I didn’t move forward until I had a more concrete idea.

“I’ll do my best to make amends with her. I hope whatever happened wasn’t too horrific – and I certainly hope that she and I can be friends.” He stayed silent.

“And if not?”

“Then I’ll just have to live with it, won’t I?”

He nodded. “Yes. We’re almost done here, then let’s cross blades and see what you can do.”

We finished up the planting and watering, then I drew my wooden sparring sword and crossed it against his, blurring into a thrust and lunge the instant he said to go. He parried it aside and returned a lunge of his own, which I sidestepped and managed to block his follow-up slice. The wood striking wood echoed in the sanctum, and Ash smiled madly. “Well done, apprentice.” He swung again at my head, grappling at my wrist when I got too close, but I managed to evade his grip, and shove aside a blow that would have come down on my head before swiping at his neck.

He ducked around and lunged low, which I managed to stave off before coming in high and whirling, which he somehow managed to parry without looking too strained and delivered a harsh lunge at my neck, which I flicked aside and returned with interest before that too was evaded.

After a hard fought few more exchanges he managed to get past my guard with a flurry of attacks that finally swatted the blade from my hands and flicked it towards my throat. “Good work, apprentice. I know you don’t want to hear it but that’s the hardest you’ve made me work yet. You’d have eaten the Nihilons of your first fight alive if you fought like this back then. You’re improving.”  
I smiled. “Done already?” I wanted to taunt. My heart was still pounding with anxiety and I wanted to work it off. He gestured for me to pick my sword back up and get back into a guard position.

“Not on your life, apprentice. And keep your high defense a tighter this time or I’m going to ring your bells.”

I replied with a savage grin and was soundly beaten again, arms aching from the reverberating blades and body soaked in sweat under the sparring jackets. “Again. I want you to drill that sequence again.”

We did.

I got a little closer.

Ash nodded, calmly. “Alright. Get some rest. If you keep up sparring like this, by the time the crisis is over, you’ll have beaten me at least once. And don’t forget: we have a mission here, beyond patching old fences. We have to make sure the infrastructure is ready for the flood.”


	22. A Long Needed Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River and Vanessa clear the air. For fair warning: This is the chapter where most of the bad tags (rape, forced sterilization) come from, so heads up on that.

**Ash**

The preparation had been difficult, though for the sake of reputation I’d kept myself as impassive as always. We’d helped the faith set up housing, medicine, food drives, helped the community garden grow more food, I’d gone out on a few patrols with the Guard just to stretch myself a bit and see if I could still take multiple targets at a time. I still hated the sound of Randaynian mercenary’s guns, the roar of noise and the smoke the barrels released, the lead that got thrown everywhere – though these days thanks to the heavy ceramic breastplates, they now needed to shoot a given guardsman twice, once to break the armor, once to kill.

And Guard crossbows were still better weapons sheerly by virtue of the fact that the guard could afford to use bolts for practice, since the ammo was reusable and in production. The skirmishes were short, I just needed to get out. River seemed to be struggling with the reality that after their conversation, Vanessa might not want to ever see her again, which was hurting her, but she seemed to be accepting it. I hoped so. 

Her sparring was going worse and worse. She kept expecting to win - against the best blade in Arcadia - and while she had the talent to eventually do it failing to do so kept frustrating her, which meant she got sloppy, which meant that the first session of the night usually went the longest by a significant margin - even if the first sessions kept getting closer and closer to beating me. At this point, I wondered if her emotions were getting her in more trouble than anything else. Certainly her weapon choice indicated she’d watched a few too many anime in the Archives, and far too many of those emphasized that emotional reactions improved combat effectiveness. It doesn’t.

And at the level of swordplay I was training River for? Quarter second differences mattered, forget the full second strokes she was taking when she got mad enough. I shook my head over her as I’d knocked her sprawling yet again.

“Apprentice. You were doing well earlier. I know you’re frustrated but again, you are learning under a genuine master of this particular art. The fact that you’re even doing this well is impressive - that you haven’t learned to control your temper better is embarrassing, and you’re better than that. I have taught you better than that.”

“To be honest, I didn’t know you had a temper.” I felt my blood roar in my veins for a moment. She knew why I kept everything hidden, she knew how important it was, why was she...I saw the insolent little smirk across her face.

“You’re trying to provoke me, Apprentice. If you’re clever enough to do that, you’re clever enough to win. Get up.”

She forced herself to her feet and got into a basic stance, resentful and clearly annoyed. I shouted the signal to begin and she was so busy being pissed off and tense that she didn’t manage to block the strokes that fell almost immediately - a second behind each.

“This is the issue, River. You’re angry. You’re stressed. You’re tense. It’s slowing you down and we’re at a point in your training where fractions of a second make a difference in parrying or not - and if you’re that tight, you’ll never move fast enough.” I flicked my sparring sword down as she sat down again, dizzy from the strikes.

As we drank water, I talked with her. “I know these weeks have been frustrating and probably a little triggering. But most real fights you’ll be in will be stressful as well. And when you’ve done enough of them, they’ll start stirring up all kinds of guilt. You once asked how I could confidently take eight Nihilons at once? It’s the ability to focus on the present and nothing else, as well as a lot of skill and practice. I can develop the latter, but you want the former, it’s something you’ll have to find for yourself.”

“Mentor...I apologize for my earlier comment. I was out of line.” Now she was getting a little emotionless, which was not necessarily - well, from my perspective it was better but I was told it wasn’t healthy. 

“You were. I accept your apology. I am curious though, what has been throwing you off so badly?”

“Van. I’ve been thinking about how long my family had her - I can’t remember a time in my childhood prior to her being smuggled across when she wasn’t there.” 

“And you were seven when she was smuggled across, meaning that your parents had her for at minimum four years - if we make the assumption that you don’t remember anything prior to age three, and that you therefore can’t be sure.” The tone was leading.

“Nope. We assume she was there for eight years, because Beck was seven when I was born and he says our family ‘rescued’ her from a terrible owner when he was six.” Her voice was hard, with a slight shake under it.

“Which in turn means that there was no way they got her out “as soon as they could” which is one of the things Beck noted to me in a letter not long after the business with Grant. I didn’t want to think about it, but yeah. Even as tight as the mercenary patrols were...we’ve been looking at what it took to smuggle a slave over, you and I, while we were studying up for what we could expect. How much would you, with your time in the Arcadian military, say it takes to put that together?”

“I was never in logistics, or intelligence, but about six months these days. For back before we thrashed the place as thoroughly as we did, I’d probably triple that, to be fair. Year and a half, I think, would have been the maximum amount of time it should have taken - adding a few months if you were further from the border, but you’ve said you lived in the province we rescued you from prior to enslavement, so I doubt that’s relevant. And of course I’d add about a month’s travel time once they had the whole thing together between starting the process and her arriving safely at the border.” 

River’s face took on a look, as though she was guiding me to a point. “Right. And that means that for all their protestrations that we were being raised right, that Van was there because we couldn’t get her out but she’d be a part of the family until then - they kept her for up to six and a half years longer than they had to - before they started the alloted month of travel time you mentioned, to free her. I’m making peace with the fact that my parents probably weren’t a lot nicer to a girl I thought of as an older sister than Logan and Cara were - and I cheered when your squad executed them, their nephew, and their niece that day you rescued us. I have nightmares that start with my parents’ deaths because of their debts and take a happy note with your saber plunging into Cara’s heart and ripping across her nephew’s throat and I know that Vanessa probably would do the same if the crusade had happened when she was still living there. And that my parents probably would have deserved it, if they were as awful to her as my owners were to me. I don’t know how to make that right.”

This was going to be a difficult evening for me in more ways than nine. “I don’t know that you do. Realistically, you go apologize, and you listen if she wants to talk without trying to defend whatever she says your parents did. Either she wants it to be made right with you or she doesn’t, and regardless, you have to accept her wishes - just as your owner’s kids would have to respect yours if they’d wound up as refugees now rather than corpses twelve years ago. Though from what you’ve told me they were actively involved in your abuse, unlike you and Beck to Vanessa.” 

She sighed. “Yeah. I guess.”

I shrugged. “Maybe she forgives you, maybe she doesn’t. Let me give you an important piece of advice, not just for work as an Inquisitor, but for life: Learn from what you’ve done wrong, do your best to earn forgiveness, but if someone won’t or can’t give you that? Accept their wishes, move on, and don’t let it destroy you. In this field of work? You’ll wind up doing something, eventually, that will be between you and Gaia. And at some point, you’ll have to think about what you’re doing, whether or not it’s important, and whether or not you can live with yourself in the grander scheme of things as you are, a mortal being who learns from mistakes. You trusted that your parents were honorable - they plainly weren’t, and Vera - along with your and your brother, if what you’ve told me about how you came to be where we found you - suffered for it, her more directly than you. That trust was an error, but ultimately it’s one every child makes. But now you’ve learned, so you can’t go on pretending that they were good or marvelous people. They did good things, but they also did something unforgivable. I joined the Guard, was party to a war that slaughtered thousands of people, many of them unarmed, in a blend of justice and zealotry - and I have to balance that many of those I killed probably weren’t evil but were fighting for something bad. I don’t know how that balances out, and at some point, it doesn’t matter. Because they’re dead, back in Gaia’s womb, now, and I’m alive. And you’re alive, and as long as that’s the case, you need to decide what you’ll emulate and how you’ll act. Don’t see much point in sorting out the morals of the dead beyond knowing what to emulate and what not to.” That was the most sincere emotion I’d displayed in a long time and it still felt flat. The dreams had been really bad, this time of year - the Rail Tunnel Massacre, especially. _How many people had I killed or doomed to what I’d rescued River from by how we’d fought and slaughtered there?_ On some level, I was probably speaking to myself.

**River.**

Ash wasn’t saying everything. I knew a lot of what was happening now was as triggering for him as it was for me - or Vera. But he wasn’t saying everything. Still, it gave me some confidence to know that Ash, a person who I relied on more and more for objectivity, thought that going to apologize and just talk it out was the right track. I pulled off my boots and planted my feet more firmly on the earthen floor for meditation. 

“Right. Let’s see what we can do about clearing my head. And tomorrow, I’ll go talk to her.”

Ash nodded, looking a little wistful, and for the first time for whatever reason it finally clicked that he was only a few years older than Vera. “Breathe in. Let Gaia’s peace flow up from the ground, into you. Breathe in, take in the air, listen to the chirping of the nocturnal wildlife, the rustle of the leaves, and let yourself be part of that. We are, you know, just a part. We are born, live, love, and die, but we’re part of something that goes on forever, as long as people care enough to keep Her alive.” He took a breath and his face went slack as I did the same. 

After a while, he got up and turned off the little lights in the sanctuary - powered by the wind turbines atop the little temple. Compact little pillars that stuck up, and provided power pretty much all the time in this region. I rolled over and slept on the little sleeping pads provided to Inquisitors using the place.

***

The next morning, I rose early and pulled on my outfit. I deliberately left the Inquisition jacket and the Emerald Eyes in the temple, since I wanted to make clear to Vera I was approaching her as one person to another. I walked through the streets of Crest, which were damp and slick from the morning mist. Ash had informed me that he’d be looking into a lead with his old Guard contacts today so I had the day to do what I needed.

I found Vanessa getting ready for the day, not putting on the scarf she’d been in when I first saw her - we had agreed to talk this out today, and it was time to do so. I found myself wishing I’d kept the black jacket, if only to make me feel a little more secure, but I realized that was the problem. I didn’t need security for this, I needed candor.

We sat down by a cafe and I got myself some tea and ordered her a cup of the kind I’d seen her drinking over the last few weeks, when she, Ash and I had been working. 

I didn’t speak, and didn’t speak, and then right when I opened my mouth to do so, she spoke.

“So we’re going to talk about...it, right? From how nervous you’ve been, I think you’ve realized your parents weren’t the angels you thought. Not to me.” The hammer hit my chest, but I steeled myself. Be like Ash, I thought. Focus on doing the right thing, the thing you need to do, not how it makes you feel.

“Yeah. I have. I didn’t know at the time, Van, but I am so, so sorry.”

“You don’t even know all of it, do you?”

“I know they kept you a lot longer than they should have. I know they made sure you finished some of your education - though looking back I suspect it was so they could leave you to help babysit more than because they cared about you.”

“All true. They used my as an unpaid babysitter for eight years, and when I hit that special age,” her voice took on a hard, cold note, “Oh don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do what the law prescribes for “strays” in Randaynia when we hit “breeding” age. It happened to you too, unless I very much miss my guess.”

I knew what was coming next. It had happened to me too. And Beck, though for anatomical reasons, in a different way, obviously. “They spayed me, yes. And neutered Beck.” Vanessa nodded. “Yep. Can you guess when it happened to me? Remember when I had appendicitis? Because I didn’t.” Her tone was full of hurt and pain with a thin veneer of mockery over it. I shuddered, and felt revolted. On some level, that tracked, I knew the law, I had just….

Gaia, Ash was right, my parents really weren’t better than the bastards the Guard had rescued me from. “Oh Gaia, Van, I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t know. But let me tell you, as long as we’re being candid, my adoptive parents finding that out sure as shit made them stop trading with your family. And joining the mounting movement of Arcadians who’d adopted or befriended refugees pushing for war. And...well, I suspect your ex-Guard mentor knows, even if he hasn’t asked or let on. He probably knows why the rules of engagement changed. It was the same time the word got out around the rank and file.” I shuddered. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, nowhere near, and I know if my old owner’s kids showed up right now I’d probably try to kill them, no matter how they got here, but...I’m sorry.”

Van’s eyes got colder. “Oh, I don’t want to kill you. I just want to know. What did they tell you about the night before that long trip to smuggle me out?”

_Scorching Wastes and Poisoned Sky, no…._

She must have seen the look on my face. “Yes. I was getting ready to go to bed, in that little room near you and Beck, where I’d been placed so that I could be available for either of you to call me if you needed it - though to your brother’s credit he more often checked in on me, when he heard me crying, wanted to see if I was okay, let me talk about my parents, which was the only time in that whole ordeal anyone did, mind you - but your mom-” her voice caught. “Said that they were taking me to the border tomorrow, because they had promised to do that, and in Randaynia, even verbal contracts count, right?” The scorn in her voice was leavened just a little with relief mentioning the one redeeming aspect of our mother country’s culture - “Well, she said if they were doing that, any idea she and your father had regarding “spicing things up” with me was now or never.” 

I felt a massive wrench in my stomach and forced myself not to vomit - I’d hear her, I’d hear what she said. “They told me that if I told you, or more likely, Beck, anything, the morning we left, I could look forward to more the entire way to the border. I had a hunch what was going on but it doesn’t begin to measure up to what happened next.” She was shaking and I wanted to reach out, but stopped myself - ironically, remembering what Ash had done after that battle. I wanted to comfort, but I didn’t know if she wanted it from me, and I couldn’t touch her while she was thinking about this. Ever. 

“I won’t go into detail - though you may be interested to know that Beck and I have been in correspondence for some time. I told him I’d tell you if you and I met face to face again, and that I didn’t want him doing it. Beck’s known it since not long after he enlisted. I made him promise not to mention it to you. And...he didn’t want to tell you, told me I could. Your mistress? Did the same to him. He was old enough.” I hadn’t known that. _Beck had been...oh Gaia I’d been so focused on worrying about if Logan did it to me...oh Wastes..._ Van continued, “So yeah, however much you think you suffered in their care? Know that I didn’t even have someone like Beck there to protect me. Or rather, I did - and he wasn’t old enough or strong enough to do so. I have moments where I wanted to kill you, River, where I hoped you went through the same things I did - you always seemed so trusting of your parents, that they knew what was best for me regarding when to give me my freedom. Now, I admit, I have looked at what it took to get me over. It couldn’t have been done immediately. But they kept me seven years longer than they needed to, and capped it off with doing that. They’re dead, and I hope it fucking hurt. Oh, and just to throw it in? Beck told me about the baby sister you had who didn’t make it. Did you do the math on when she would have been conceived? Because he and I did, together. _My rape was the WARM-UP act for your sister’s conception, you blind, scorching idiot_.” She took a breath. “You knew none of this, but I can’t help but be relieved Lily didn’t make it - I couldn’t have looked at her, not knowing what happened.”

I felt sick, and felt a flash of anger...I wanted to lash that it wasn’t Lily’s fault how...it didn’t matter. I felt colder and more empty than I ever had. All that, happening to the two people left in the world who had known me when I was little, and I’d never known. “I’m so sorry.”

“Keep your pity. We’ll get the refugees sorted, and I’ll sort out my head. But once your posting here is done? I’m going to need a long time to figure out whether I need to see or hear from you again. I’ll be sure to send word to Beck if I figure it out.” Her tone was clipped, final, and despite my desire to offer comfort, I didn’t. Ash had been right. I hadn’t known anything - my biological parents had been monsters. 

I took a breath. “I understand, Vanessa. I can’t express how angry I am that that was done to you, or how much I wish I could change it, or wish I could have been there for you after. No matter what I feel about finding this out, or how you feel about Lily, it pales in comparison to what you’ve been through. If there was anything I could do to make it right, I would, but…”

“There isn’t.” Her tone was leading, not hostile.

“So...I’ll give you the distance you ask.” I nodded to her. 

“After this assignment is over for you, you will. Until then, you and I are going to both make like your mentor and bury all of that to make sure your guilt and trauma, and my trauma doesn’t foul up anything for the people who are running from what we fled or worse.” Her expression was already going distant. I nodded.

“I understand.”

I walked back to the sanctuary and tried to meditate, but all I could do was be sick. Over, and over. When Ash got back, and saw the mess, I tried to apologize and he shook his head. “At a guess, it was worse than you imagined.” I nodded.

“Also, I ran into Vanessa - she said you took it all in, and gave her the distance you asked when it was over. That’s good. You kept your emotions where they belonged until it was appropriate to display them - when it wouldn’t detract from her saying what she needed to. That’s important.” I was heaving still, but slowly calmed down. 

“And yes, she did mention that she would prefer we avoided her as much as possible during the situation, and that if at all possible, we either avoid missions in Crests or do them without letting her know we’re here. But if nothing else, I’m proud that you handled that.”

I shook my head. “Ash? I just want you to know. You didn’t do anything during that war that wasn’t justified. I found out a lot about my parents that...Just know, if you ever have nightmares about anything you did? I want you to know, from the bottom of my heart, that whoever was on the wrong end of your blade absolutely deserved it.” I was seethingly angry at my birth parents, at my old country, at myself for not knowing, at Beck for not telling me about Vera, at our old owners, at everything about it.

“For the record, the reason I avoid hospitals if I don’t need them? The reason I didn’t care about how inquisitors can’t have kids while they’re active? They sterilize us in Randaynia. My biological parents did it to Vanessa, my owners did it to me and Beck.” Ash’s reaction was a look devoid of shock, but it brought back that screaming inferno behind his eyes.

He knew. He would have. He just didn’t know if it had been done to me. But he crouched next to me and started cleaning the sanctuary up. He left me a bucket while he did it. “We’ll talk more if you want, apprentice. Or, I’ll listen. But I think we won’t be sparring tonight - we’ll do that tomorrow morning. For the record - yes I did suspect. I won’t mourn your illusions - they were dangerous to you - but I am sorry for the pain their dispelling has caused you. Remember what I said earlier, but let me add this: You aren’t your parents. You aren’t responsible for what they did. But Vanessa isn’t obligated to keep spending time with you if it’s bad for her. Understand?” I nodded. I understood just fine.

I murmured a prayer and went to sleep.


	23. Mastery of Self and Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River and Ash spar again

**Ash**

I’d been going on more and more small patrols with River to help the guard forces in the area deal with any mercenaries, bandits, or Nihilons that were chasing the refugees looking for slaughter or pillage. I had been sickened by the confirmation of my suspicions about my apprentice having been sterilized, having found out that her parents were guilty of the same crime to another girl…To say the least, I’d been in a mood.

And now, as it seemed I was finally going to get to fight alongside my apprentice against the kinds of people who’d taken so much from her, my mood was actually improving a little bit. Terribly selfish but the Guard garrison had lost a platoon after a brutal skirmish with a fairly substantial force of people who’d decided to make their own way in the crumbling Randaynia by preying on the other refugees.

“Looks like four of them. Pretty well armed.” River was the one with the binoculars.

“Any guns?” If they had those this was to be done with bows.

“No. All hand axes and knives. Though from the look of it they’re carrying a lot of capture gear...Oh scorch me. They’re looking to grab refugees and try to sell them back to the bosses. Bastards must still think Randaynia has a chance of pulling out of that spiral.” River’s voice carried a grim satisfaction.

“Not on their lives.” My own tone came out flat, but with just enough edge to it to remind me of the soldier I’d been in the Crusade.

“Do you mean on our lives?”

“No.” It came out with a trace of dark amusement, which was perfect for how I currently felt.

“Then you think we can take them?”

“Apprentice, if their best bet of making a living is to prey on unarmed refugees they’d have to have at least three times that many to make it an even fight against the two of us. Let’s go.” My leg wasn’t quite working with me the way I wanted it to, but even so, I was able to ride towards the approaching party and dismount in front of them, drawing as I did so.

“Gentlemen. Is there some reason you’re armed on our sovereign soil?”

The largest man made the mistake of thinking that the four of them rushing us would be enough. It wasn’t.

I was quietly cleaning my sword once the brief fight ended, quietly impressed by how much River had improved since our fight with the Nihilons - she handled multiple opponents much better than she used to. I hadn’t really gotten much of a stress release from the fight, it had been painfully short, painfully one-sided, and I felt almost as though I was wasting technique on them - their skill and ethics were both so lacking that to merely wield my saber like a butcher’s cleaver would have been more fitting and no less effective. I found myself thinking back to Hyacinth’s words, about how even armed, most opponents didn’t pose enough threat to me for killing them to be anything but cold blooded. Then again, I’d seen the scars on my apprentice’s back when she changed out of a sparring jacket in the evenings, and the more I learned about how that society treated it’s vulnerable the less my conscience so much as twitched at the idea of outright murdering everyone who’d participated in acts like that.

River was cleaning the blood off her own sword. She’d seemed quieter since her talk with Vanessa, after she’d cleaned herself up. More reflective. She spent a lot of time meditating and praying or working in the sanctum’s gardens, as though trying to make peace with herself and make peace with her bloodline through Gaia. I felt for her - losing your illusions wasn’t easy. 

We finished up our little task, then searched the bodies for anything of value. The iron restrains they carried could be used, or at the very least, the metal could be. Their weapons were decent steel as well. Their clothes needed a wash, and those boots were definitely going to need repair and disinfecting, but there was no sense in letting them go to waste when there were going to be no shortage of people in need of clothing. We stripped down the corpses and rode off, using some of the coin on the bodies to pay to get it laundered - once it was done the items would be donated. “River, what’s on your mind?”

“I just...that fight was so easy.” I nodded and waved my bad hand for her to continue. “I killed two men, and I only felt...satisfied.”

“They were here to hurt innocent people and victimize them for profit, so I understand feeling entirely justified, first off. Second, you killed one guy yourself and kill-stole me on another, but yes.”

“I thought Mentor rank was above such petty things as competitive combat?” She sounded gently mocking.

“Supposed to be, but I was a guardsman first, and the last few months have been trying.” My voice was wry. “Was that all?”

“No, I just realized...I’ve come a lot farther than I thought.” 

I nodded. “Yes. And once we get all this done, we’re doing our usual nightly swordplay practice. I want to see if you can apply what we just did and beat me - you’re getting to the point where I expect you to be able to beat me once in a while.”

**River**

The fight had gotten my blood singing until I realized that it wasn’t anything resembling difficult. Was this why Ash seemed so calm? The knowledge that nothing can touch you has to make everything more relaxing. Then again, he’d been icy during the fight itself, and the lead-up. I had a hunch that the reminders of my trauma, Van’s, and whatever flashbacks he’d been suffering from his time in the war had been fueling a pretty dark rage burning under his usual calm demeanor. He looked more relaxed today than he had since that night. His swordplay against these raiders had reflected that - it was as masterful as ever, but where the Nihlons had been greeted with a game face and effort, he’d fought these men with a sort of contempt.

I’d been working with Vanessa quite a lot, not out of choice or desire to force resolution but because there was simply no way around it. I’d been using Inquisitorial authority to deal with all sorts of problems for her office and circumvent any and all red tape in the way of being prepared for the desperate tide of people coming here for a chance at improving their lives - though there was a part of me now darkly wondering how many of the families fleeing would be helmed by monsters pretending to be people like my parents had? How many people were we letting in that would eventually be dragged off by the Guard when it came to light that they were still exploiting people? Orders had been issued that anyone traveling with a slave would be detained and said slave would be asked about the situation. People would all be detained and asked questions separately from each other, though the questions wouldn’t take long. “I’m still wearing my collar because we’ve been on the run and haven’t found the tools to get an iron band off my neck” was good. “They’ve been exploiting me for a while but they didn’t leave me to the mercs so I owe them” would result in separation from, and very probable execution of, the owners. 

But I couldn’t focus on that. That was a Guard problem. The Guard was dealing with legal issues and raids. Our job was to make sure the Faith and the Stewardship of Care had what they needed to process the refugees, debrief them, take care of them, and make sure they understood their rights and restrictions as Arcadia provided them.

And amidst all of that, I’d grown to a whole new respect for Van. She seemed alive taking care of problems, taking people who’d been slaves and talking to them, witnessing at least one guard officer sign at least one death warrant for a man caught taking a much younger slave across the border and claiming she and he were looking forward to being married in a society where they could be - when her report had differed he’d been taken away by a pair of strapping Guardsmen. Which was not due process but this was very much a triage situation. Vera had been good at talking to her - and that was based only on what little I’d seen while I was running around sorting papers, using my badge to get to people and get them cooperating faster, while Ash was doing the same but more effectively because of his reputation…

Someday I’d have a rep like that and I’d be able to be as helpful. I’d volunteered in the garden to grow vegetables and when the offer had come up to help hunt some of the local wild pig - which were always overpopulated and very tasty - both of us had accepted to help fill the larders. I hadn’t had much time to reflect on all the things I’d heard or found out, been too focused, and at some point in the whirlwind of activity I realized I’d made peace with what I’d learned about my parents. As Ash said, they were dead, I was alive, and as long as that was the case I could still choose to be better.

So I was.

But when night fell, I got into my sparring jacket and unlimbered the wooden sparring katana as Ash readied his sparring saber. I was alive with excitement - after today’s battle, I knew I was capable. But I wanted to see exactly how capable. I wanted to see if I really was ready to beat him.

Our blades crossed in the traditional salute, then I swept down at his head, twisting it sideways into a diagonal slash at his abdomen as he sidestepped and he managed to parry. I grinned brightly as he lunged back at me, quickly sweeping around the attack and pressing it against him, even as he laughed, an exhilarated little laugh and began a brilliant flurry of slashes and strikes at my body, doing his best to keep up his threat about “ringing my bells” if I didn’t learn to keep a better high defense, but to my increasing excitement, in my calmer state, I felt equal to it. I was moving, deflecting or dodging the blows and returning my own. I switched grips to a one handed stance and made a grab for his wrist as he slashed but his own free hand slapped mine aside as my sword spun down to check a swipe at my leg. 

“Good!” His face was split with a genuine smile as the hard sound of wood striking wood echoed in the sanctum. “Keep it up.” He stumbled with his bad leg as he pressed the attack but I knew better than to attack that side - he’d long since adapted to his disability and had a counter for exploiting it that I’d yet to figure out how to stop. I lunged at his good side instead and was rewarded by a surprised grunt as he barely swatted the blow aside in time, but the angle he did it at let me switch grip again and bring a powerful two handed strike back, which he once more evaded, twirling his own saber into a backhanded grip and attempting a check and slash combination that I evaded while directing a simpler cut across his abdomen - a disemboweling strike of the type I’d seen him use on the Nihilons the first time I’d seen him fight for real. He moved to parry and in that crystal moment I saw my chance, and twisted the blade up to thrust into his diaphraghm, stepping in as I did so. He realized what I was doing an instant too late and grunted as the strike landed.

He coughed and gasped, my blow having knocked the wind out of him. When he recovered, he smiled. “Well done, apprentice. You’ve beaten me when I wasn’t holding anything back. How does it feel?”

I gasped, smiling like an idiot. “Amazing. Holy shit. I just out-duelled the best blade in Arcadia.” He smiled. 

“You did. You beat me fair and square and of all the people I’ve ever crossed blades with there aren’t many who can say that - and of that select group, I doubt any could still do it. You’re well on your way to mastering swordplay. I’m proud of you.” I felt a rush of warmth and pride at that statement. I didn’t realize how much Ash’s approval meant, how badly I’d craved it in this area, especially.

But the more I thought, the more I realized. He’d been just as proud about the way I’d handled myself with Vera. Then something he said clicked.

“Well on the way?” My tone was challenging, but playfully. 

“Beating me once doesn’t make you a master. But I don’t know if I’ve really mastered swordplay myself. You’ve got a ways to go before you can do that every time. But if you get better at this rate, you and I practicing every night for the rest of your apprenticeship is going to push both of us to heights of skill not known since the Calamity at least. Well done, apprentice. Take your position for round two.”


	24. Flood of the Desperate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of the refugee crisis arc

**Ash**

The flood of refugees came not as I expected. Patrols went out daily and picked up more refugees, wave after wave of scores of people at a time. The Intelligence indicated that the true collapse had finally come – the bastion held by the last of the Randaynian bosses had fallen when his mercenaries had turned on, abandoned, and butchered him and his family. The mercenaries now roved the Randaynian countryside attacking everything for a bit of plunder, and would soon be met with a force of some three thousand Guardsmen sent to stop the violence.

That wasn’t my problem – as much as I envied those soldiers the simplicity of their work. Mine was to help the Faith and the Stewardship of Care get the resources they needed to take care of the refugees. I was truly proud to be an Arcadian when I saw how the common people of Crests, at least, were coming together to help the desperate people coming here for safety – and from what I heard in correspondence from other cities, Crests was in the vast majority in having done so as fast and as beautifully as they had. It wasn’t like the aftermath of the Crusade, where the Arcadian citizenry had been too resentful of lost fathers, sons, brothers, husbands, and boyfriends to the war to have welcomed the innocent refugees of the enemy nation properly – wastes, I’d been an asshole myself while I was learning to cope with the loss of my fingers and the reduction in my mobility.

But now I was gratified to see that the people had healed from that and had dedicated themselves to Gaian teachings of charity and compassion. I saw more than one refugee given cold weather gear – saw no few hunters come back with the brutal wild boars that had been brought to this region by some rich idiot before the calamity and had spread out of control. The beasts were a destructive pest, but they made excellent leather and had a lot of meat – I saw a lot of refugees walking around with jackets and boots made from their hides and I smelled the beasts roasting almost all the time, in the community kitchens where anyone could go for a hot meal as needed.

They had pre-prepared housing for the refugees as well – for a time, I’d been part of the dumb labor to construct it in the scramble over the last few months between quick conversations where I’d been sent to hurry processes along with my Emerald Eye pendant and my reputation. Then my damn hip had started letting me down yet again by buckling underneath it – a truly wonderful way to inspire the people’s confidence in the capability of the Inquisition.

They hadn’t judged me anywhere nearly as harshly as I was judging myself, in fairness. The construction crews had seen what war wounds did to people. Still, it aggravated me. The housing they’d been building wasn’t the best – more barracks than apartments, small affairs fit for a single small family at a time – and other places, bunkbed rooms for unaccompanied children who would be cared for by Care Stewards until appropriate adoptive families could be found.

I’d been so proud of River, as well, moving around like a whirlwind, getting things done quickly, fanatically checking up on stories, tracking leads about where people’s scattered families might be. She’d been alight with activity, working alongside Vera as the need arose without ever talking about anything but business, clearing out to work with others and contacting me to switch in when Vera’s own triggers came up, running back to the Sanctum to meditate when hers got bad enough, occasionally asking me if I needed to.

I did and I didn’t – the things this was bringing up for me would only be made worse by any time to meditate on any of them. Keeping moving would be better, for me at least. I continued working, trying to get through the difficulties of the flashbacks. The brutal battles, the panicked withdrawals, the assaults where I’d slaughtered everything that got within sword reach…and the blade, glittering as it rang against my bones and crippling me forever. Worse now though was the guilt – how many of the people coming in now had been forcibly sterilized because I’d slaughtered the people they relied on for safety? Destroyed their shops, their farms, their mines…How many family lines had been ended, directly or indirectly, with a swing of my sword? How many children had been traumatized simply because of the wanton destruction we’d let loose?

I was hearing more and more reports from my contacts in the Guard saying that they were struggling more and more with mental health concerns as the memories and guilt started coming back and more and more testimony about the collateral damage of our crusade was uncovered. I wasn’t any exception. I felt sick. I felt so, so tired. I’d done so much, and I wasn’t sure how much of it had ultimately wound up actually helping. But no. I had helped River. I had helped her brother. The Crusade had freed thousands like them, and had ended an empire that was guilty of a horrific number of human rights abuses. It had meant something.

That didn’t keep the treasonous little voice in my head from wishing I could meet an equal on the battlefield – one who might be able to outmatch me. Or making any number of other suggestions like the ones I’d gotten so good at ignoring for so long. Scorch me, this was why I ignored my emotions – I hadn’t been right since the war. Physically or mentally. The Inquisition had only made it worse and now River was stuck in here too.

No. No. I’d fix the Circle. I had to make all of it mean something. 

I kept up the work. Carried out a few arrests, helped oversee a few debriefings with refugees - mostly families traveling together, a few who had smuggled slaves out and managed to avoid sterilizing them and were now, according to both the slaves and their former owners, looking forward to being registered as a proper family, a couple who were told to please follow these nice guardsmen when the “cousins” traveling with them were revealed to be nothing of the sort. And one family, one that set me shaking, who recognized me.

They flinched at the sight of my face, they didn’t even know what the jacket meant. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. I didn’t know where I’d seen any of them, since I hadn’t paid attention to the faces of the people I was killing or whose homes I was destroying - just those I was rescuing. But their story checked out, and they were sent along. 

I went back to the Sanctum, shaking. Some of them had had collar scars. People had been brutalized because of me. Oh Gaia. How many more girls had suffered like Vanessa, like River, or boys like Beck, because of things I’d done? I’d removed a few collars with my sword, how many had I locked? Gaia forgive me. I had to keep calm. River was still counting on me. I had to follow the advice I’d given her. Guilt was worthless except as a guide to a better path moving forward. I had to focus on that.

**River**

Ash was more distant, even as he worked to try to fix the situation. I was rushing around, sleeping and meditating in shifts as needed. I’d seen Vera a few times, but again, most the job right now was simply doing whatever I could for anyone I could and investigating things that the Guard now couldn’t afford to spend time on. Still, I could tell that whatever was swirling around in his head, my steely mentor was crumbling inwardly under some burden. 

I wanted him to talk to me about it - after all the times he’d listened to me when I was freaking out over Vanessa, or my past, or the things that had happened, or any number of other things, I figured it was only fair for him to talk to me about some of them. But whenever I tried to signal that I’d be open to it, his eyes flickered with something like shame. Like he’d done something bad to...no, not me. People like me. I mean, he’d bisected my owners’ niece’s face pretty nice when he’d stormed that house, but beyond that…

No. That wasn’t the issue. It had been worse after interacting with the refugees. And hearing my - and Vanessa’s - story. Meaning that…

Oh. Oh. Ash felt guilty because it was getting a human face attached. The collateral damage the Arcadian forces had caused, the events they’d set in motion through the Crusade, the damage it had done. He was seeing the people who’d been mutilated, raped, enslaved, or brutalized because of things he and soldiers like him had done. And he was hiding it from me because of his own views on how mentor and apprentice were supposed to work - he was modeling the same icy distance from his own emotions in the face of the task at hand that he expected of me, given what we’d talked about after Vera. I didn’t know if he’d be open about it when the crisis passed - if he thought it was inappropriate to burden me with his troubles. 

That might be kind, like a parent hiding his troubles from a child, but there was a problem: while it might be appropriate for a parent to hide their troubles from their child, I wasn’t a child, I wasn’t Ash’s child, and while I had, and have, nothing but love for my adoptive family, what I’d recently learned of my biological parents and their secrets had me pretty certain I didn’t need anymore even remotely parental secret keeping. That, and I was worried for Ash.

I knew he wasn’t going to talk about any of it, not without me reaching out and trying to get it out of him, but I relied on him enough. I could do that for him. But, in deference to what he was teaching me, I’d do it when the current crisis abated. Which, as I did every odd job someone could find to throw me at, seemed like it would be never. I was becoming very popular among ex-slaves coming to the border as a debriefing Inquisitor - I’d given up the scarf I usually wore so they could see the collar scars and know they weren’t alone - that they had someone with power who understood them. After a few kids and more than a few people my age had gone through being debriefed with me, I was learning more and more exactly what my status as a freedwoman turned inquisitor could mean to people. There were a few Faith druids who’d been slaves and refugees before, but not Inquisitors. 

And as I looked at the shining, hopeful eyes of a few people who I debriefed, as the crisis slowly wound down over months, at least in Crests, I was more proud than ever that Ash had my back in all this - because there was no better safeguard against the Inquisition becoming oppressive than having people who’d been powerless in the ranks.


	25. The Way Back Home

**River**

The ride back from Crests was quiet. Ash was quieter than usual. Not just his “pretending not to have feelings” quiet, quiet like he’d been since those last few months. He’d seen one family in particular that seemed to haunt him. “Ash, what’s bothering you?”

Even now, thirteen years after being rescued – by Ash, I sometimes had to remind myself if I got scared about pushing him too hard – it still made me a bit nervous to ask personal questions of people with more power than I had. And even as good as I was getting with the sword, six months now since the first time I beat him and only a few weeks after the crisis had finally slowed down enough that the Inquisition was being called back from the eastern border, he was still far more capable in a fight than I was. 

He turned around and fixed me with a number three glare – the one he used when he really felt like reinforcing his usual façade of the inquisitor without emotion. Which would have worked, except for that on the way out, I’d seen him all but ecstatic in the religious fervor of this beautiful forest, proof in his eyes of the divinity of his goddess – and mine too, I reminded myself. Even if I didn’t believe quite the way he did. If Ash was pushing down his emotions here, things were very wrong in his head. 

“Nothing, Apprentice. I…”

“Horseshit.”

I’d never called someone with direct power over me on a lie before. Not since…not since the rescue. But you know what, it was nice. I was making all sorts of progress today. Ash’s face split in an ominous grin. “Well, glad to see you’ve cleared that particular hurdle. But no. It wouldn’t be appropriate to burden you with my troubles. You had yours and you bore them admirably.”

“I threw up for two days and became a shaky wreck after that conversation and you and I both talked about it and meditated on it for HOURS!” My voice took on a shrill note, a furious one that startled the birds from the trees around the dirt road we traveled. “I meditated with you every day on all the flashbacks and nightmares and everything else that was coming up and you were there to listen the whole time! You called it admirable, why do you think that’s admirable for me but talking about whatever’s in your head is so Gaia-damned inappropriate?”

Ash took a long pause. “Not now.”

“Mentor…”

“Not. Now.” His voice was firm. “If we have to talk about this, we’ll do so when we make camp tonight. I want to be able to mediate afterwards. But you have my word. If it is so important that you see some of the things that haunt me, so you can see me use the techniques I’ve taught you on my own demons, you’ll get to.” His voice was steely, but I could hear the pain under it. 

So that’s what this was. He didn’t want me to see him in pain. He didn’t want me to see him vulnerable, or ‘weak.’ Two years of working with me. Who knew how many years since the Crusade. And he’d probably never let anyone see him get emotional about anything since, because the other Inquisitors were so uncertain of him. My heart went out to him, though ironically I knew I couldn’t let it show. Ash would never react well to pity.

When we finally made camp, making sure that Daisy and Quincy both drank and ate, Ash started up a fire while I brought out some of the vegetables I’d brought from Crests and started roasting them over the fire. “So, Ash? 

He tensed, then nodded, slowly, as he began turning the vegetable skewers. “Yes, apprentice. I didn’t entirely lie about war flashbacks, so you know. It’s more that…you have to understand, during the war, when I first enlisted, I was so, so proud to be carrying Arcadian colors to put an end to atrocities.” I nodded, I could understand that – Beck said many of the same things about being a soldier now.

“Right. But during the war, things happened. I’ve told you before that the orders kept changing, but what we knew kept changing as well. I didn’t know most of the horrible things that were done there til we had already cut loose and created a mass of refugees we figured they’d have to do something with – refugees I later realized I’d damned to the very thing I was fighting against. Most of the time, I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what I was putting a bolt in, what was on the sharp end of my sword – if it didn’t surrender and wasn’t a child, it died – and if sometimes teenagers with weapons wound up on the wrong end of the blade, well, if they were old enough to carry a weapon, they were old enough to accept the risks of doing so. I was seventeen at the time, and Beck can tell you that if you train a seventeen year old, then arm him, then scare him, then enrage him, he won’t pay the attention he should to what he’s doing or what he’s being ordered. But I was rescuing people, right? I rescued you, I rescued Beck, and dozens of others. I lost my fingers in…Gaia, I don’t even remember where exactly that battle was, but I got my pelvis chipped with a blade three weeks later on Salt Lake, and the salt and distance from our medics kept the wound from ever healing right. So my body was damaged, but I made it, right? I saved people, I killed those hurting them. Then I found out what else I had done to thousands of others, so I said fine, and went back to the Inquisition when the war was over, thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could help other tragedies like that from occurring. Then I found out that aside from my adoptive mother and slated mentor, no one in the Inquisition thought I should be allowed back in.” The words were delivered in the most exhausted tone I had ever heard him use. I nodded, and let him continue.

“Right, right. So I’ve given up the proper function of my body, I’ve given up my home in the Inquisition, I’ve given up much of the peace of mind I’ve ever had, and now I have to work through it. Except that I can’t sleep, because dreams of all the people I killed or screwed over keep coming back to my head. And I can’t talk to anyone because I can’t have anyone thinking that our righteous crusade was something I’m ashamed of – even though I know it rescued people, even though I know it was necessary. And just as I finally start getting my head back together, I find out that an old friend of mine from back in the war has gone heretic and lit parts of Yosemite ablaze. I find him spouting nonsense about –“ he cut himself off, hard, and I felt that it would be singularly unwise to push that specifically, but he continued. “He was driven mad by what we’d done, and instead of letting me talk to him, he fought me until I had to kill him. And then I’m handed an Apprentice. One I’d rescued. One who makes the dreams almost a nightly thing. That’s been getting better, but then I got to Crests and I see three. Different. Families. That I, personally, doomed to slavery, sterilization, and brutality. I was starting to think that I’d done more good in all of it than I hadn’t – but for every you or Beck that I saved, I doomed someone else. Probably more than one. And at some point, I have to wonder – all my plans to fix the Inquisition, to take on the Archdruid? Are they just going to hurt more people than they help too?”

I felt furious. I knew what he meant but still…I wanted to help him, to help him feel better – no, the way to Ash wasn’t emotion. It was a shock, then logic.

**Ash**

My apprentice lunged forward with open arms and I let her hug me. It was the first human contact I’d had in…wastes, four years? I let her, though. It didn’t feel like she was developing untoward feelings, and I wouldn’t return them if she did.

“I know you think you hurt more people than you helped. I don’t know how it all balanced – but I never would have been the person I was without you. Neither would Beck. All the things I’ve had a chance to become, I owe to you and people like you. If you have to torture yourself with regret, at least remember that for at least me, the difference you made was for the better.” She pulled away from me, glowering up from beneath her bottle-blond bangs – come to think of it I should probably have her do something about those, they might obstruct her vision. 

“And not just that. What happened was awful, but you’ve been through the logic of fighting heretics with me. So let’s try it on you.” I felt a chuckle rise in the back of my throat, but let her speak. 

“Could Randaynia have fallen without the crusade?” I paused. “Within this century, I mean.” I knew my Mentor had a habit of going off on tangents – despite his claims of being a simple man of faith, he had a habit of analyzing just about everything. 

“No.” I had to admit that.

“Right. How many people would have been enslaved, brutalized, treated like garbage, raped, sterilized, or tortured simply for not having the money to be useful any other way to the barons there?”

I shrugged. “Come on, Ash, you know that as bad as the Crusade’s effects were, it meant that that all ended sooner – probably with fewer people hurt than would have been otherwise.”

I paused at that, then something else clicked. I was starting to feel better. River had figured out how to play to her audience – exactly as an Inquisitor should. She’d figured out how to get through to me. I was proud, and as I thought about it, she was right. I hadn’t thought that way. But…she was right.

“Thank you, Apprentice.”

“So…what are your plans for fixing the Inquisition? I know you’ve got my back in spite of my heritage, but I want you to know, I’ve got yours as well.”

I had actually counted on her staying clear of all that to be honest, but with at least her at my back there were probably other options. “Still working on figuring it out. That’s going to be a conversation for another night.”


	26. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and Belladonna spar verbally, Ash reflects on plans, River is tested by the Archdruid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note, if you're loving my work, please leave kudos, comments, preferably comments over kudos if you can only spare the one. Thanks for reading.

**River**

The return to Arcata was a pleasant one. It was warmer here than in Crests, and Ash’s mood seemed slightly improved without the mist making his old war wounds much sorer. That had the unfortunate effect of making nightly sparring a little harder but then again, it was Ash and I was only getting better. The really special thing was that I had sent a message ahead to one of the archive terminals – there was a modified link between them, a telegram sort of system.

And I’d sent one to Tyler, which meant that when we got to Arcata I’d be able to see them again. Ash was looking forward to getting back to his own home, spending time with Willow – and I supposed I should find time at some point to visit my adoptive family in Bay Hills if we went that way again. I’d gotten a telegram from Beck, too – apparently his was one of the regiments that had been sent into Randaynia to bring the mercenaries to bay and begin the process of annexing the place. The tone of his letter verged on the outright excited, and I couldn’t say I blamed him – he seemed like he was looking forward to getting back a little of his own from that hellhole.

Still, as Ash and I dismounted near the gates of Arcata, and gently walked the horses to the stables, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I was going to get to see Tyler soon. Even as I stepped through the gates and saw the crowd of people waiting to welcome assorted emergency workers home from the border, I saw my brightly-dressed lover charge out of the crowd and tackle-hugged me.

“River. It’s so good to see you again.” I felt their warmth, smelled the lavender on their body and took a deep breath and hugged them back. “I’ve missed you.” The words were quiet in my ear, and I felt happy hearing it. I was surprised though – by all accounts Tyler got around, though I didn’t mind. How had they missed me this badly?

“I missed you too.” That was honest, and I was happy to be here again. Ash looked like he wanted to say something, and then he nodded, calmly. “Take the rest of the day off with your partner, Apprentice. Be back in the Inquisitorial Sanctum in time for us to spar and meditate tonight.” He turned away and started walking and I gave Tyler a quick kiss.

“Hey Ash? Maybe we should go together to deliver the report. Just in case the Archdruid starts looking for trouble.”

He smiled. “Good thinking.” The expression on his face was warm, which was simultaneously sweet and unsettling. I waved at Tyler. “Hey. Meet me by the Jasmine Dragon in two hours.” Tyler nodded.

“You got it. I look forward to an interview later.”

I chuckled at my irrepressible partner and Ash walked with me, still limping a little. “Hey, Mentor?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think of Tyler?”

“I think they’re coagulation of emotion, sexual excitement, and authority issues and only that last one is a thing I am capable of understanding, but they seem to make you happy and as long as they don’t harm my plans or any innocent people I am more than happy to root for you two.” There was the faintest trace of amusement in his words, and I flushed a bit.

“It’s not just sex. They’re sweet, they’re genuinely interested in me, I learn more about them every time, they have fun, and we’re on more or less equal ground.” Ash waved a hand – his maimed one.

“Relax, apprentice. You don’t have to justify it to me. If it makes you happy and doesn’t interfere with your duties, I’m genuinely happy for you.” I thought about making a quip about how Ash wasn’t allowed to use the word “genuinely” and the word “happy” in the same sentence and probably not in the same paragraph until he’d gone to some form of therapy but decided against it – my Mentor was being supportive of something that mattered to me, and I didn’t want to throw it back in his face.

“Thank you.” We went to the main Circle office and climbed the stairs to meet with Belladonna – Ash stumbled once, on his way up the stairs, and I heard him curse as he caught himself. I took his arm and helped him up, and he looked like he wanted to rip free of my grip but stopped himself. “Thank you, Apprentice.” We got to the Archdruid’s personal garden – I’d never seen the ivy-covered walls before, with the strange and beautiful blooms all around.

**Ash**

The Archdruid was looking at me as we walked in. I kept my head high, and she looked between River and I with a small smile.

“So. I take it the two of you are here to report on the situation in Crests?”

I nodded. River’s little run in with her partner had me in a good mood – it had been heartwarming to watch, whether or not I’d ever seen the appeal in sex or romance myself. “Right. Over four thousand refugees were processed. Of those, thirty five hundred were found either guilty of no significant wrongdoing or under blanket pardon. Of the latter group, the majority are being given extra attention in regards to assimilation. In addition, when we left, the 32nd Guard was mobilizing for deployment, though my contacts in the region’s Guard were mostly in the 19th, or had retired some years ago, so I wasn’t able to keep quite as close an eye on that as I might have liked.” I felt nervous when talking to Belladonna about my Guard contacts, but she never actually seemed to mind me having them as much as she minded how I’d gotten them – having them now was useful to the Inquisition, after all.

“In addition, the citizens in the region were quite welcoming to the refugees – most seem in agreement that sharing Gaia’s love and taking care of those who come desperate to our doorstep is a crucial duty as Gaians and Arcadians, and they’ve been putting it to good practice.” I concluded the report, and the Archdruid leaned back and stared into my eyes.

“Well done. I have other reports though. Apparently your apprentice had a prior relationship with one of the Caretaker Stewards you two interacted with.”

My face was kept blank, though I saw River stiffen out of the corner of my eye. “That’s accurate, though it’s also coincidental. My apprentice has had no contact with said individual in years – since River came here as a refugee, to my understanding.” Anyone else would have had to worry about their face emptying of emotion being an obvious concealment, I lived my entire life behind this poker face and there was no way that this self-righteous twit was going to see through it well enough to attack River.

“Are you aware that your apprentice’s family – “

“Biological family.” River interrupted her. “My family are Arcadian citizens living in Bay Hills, and my brother is a Guardsman on deployment.”

The Archdruid gave a fencer’s nod. “Right. Of course. Still, one does tend to reflect attitudes they grew up with – and your biological family owned miss Landon as a slave for some time. You and your brother were both aware of-“

I gave a wave with the bad hand, to give the Archdruid a quick reminder that I’d been in Randaynia during the war and had little patience for her moral judgements. “By the Inquisition’s own law, a child is not held accountable for the crimes of the parent, regardless of the severity of said crime.”

The Archdruid nodded. “Oh, no one is accusing your apprentice of anything. Merely wondering if any old habits started coming back. It would be unfortunate if the first refugee Inquisitor proved to be… inadequately devoted to Gaia to withstand memories of old crimes.”

I felt a flicker of irritation as I saw River blanch, and my anger suddenly ran cold again – to merely play this game with my apprentice was an insult, to make her painful past and Vanessa’s a tool in it made me want to cross blades with this realpolitiking hack. “Indeed. No evidence of any such deviation, though. I’d go so far as to say I’ve seen full-fledged druids of the Inquisition succumb to sinful ways of thinking with less pressure than River remained strong against. We have cause to be proud of her.” The insult was calculated, and Belladonna looked at me icily, before shrugging it off.

“You would know better than I would about succumbing to sin in the face of madness,” I suppressed a flash of irritation as her gaze lingered, meaningfully, on the Guard-issue saber I carried and my maimed hand, as she continued, “and you’ve certainly worked well enough. For the time being, I’ll take your word on your apprentice’s handling of the matter. Well done, both of you. Dismissed.”

I stalked out with River, who was a little shaken by the conversation, and gave her a reassuring clap on the back. “Hey. That wasn’t as bad as it could have been. You held your own back there. Go get washed up from the road and find Tyler. I’m going to go meditate for a while.”

“It’s not fair you know.”

**River**

The words were out of my mouth before I could really stop them. Ash looked at me. “No, it isn’t fair, what she insinuated about you.”

“I mean, yes, but I meant the fact that you’ve had to deal with that kind of treatment for a long time. You don’t have to act like it's okay when it happens to you.”

Ash gave me a long, tired look. “Thank you, but it wasn’t really worth the fight when it was just me. Go wash up. You have a date.” He strode away, limping slightly.

***

I did have a date to prep for. I bathed, washed my hair, applied perfume and got into a lovely dress to go meet with Tyler, and when I found them, they smiled at me, dazzlingly. “Alright, Inquisitor. What can you tell me about how Crests went?”

“Well, by chance I ran into an old friend.” Ash had arranged it, but given the conversation with the Archdruid it was probably better not to bandy that.

“How was that?”

I shrugged. “Not what I hoped. I found out things I’m not sure I want to talk about. But I finally beat Ash in a fair duel.” Tyler’s gold-flecked green eyes widened at that.

“You what? Does that make you the new best swordsman in Arcadia?”

I chuckled. “Not until I can do it more often than not. But I’d say it puts me in the top two, since he was pretty clear about what he thought of the odds of anyone else even doing it once.” Tyler gave me a beautiful grin.

“River, that’s incredible. So, who was the old friend, if I may ask?”

“Someone I knew from before the war. It’s a long story.”

“Vanessa?” Their voice was probing, and I nodded. I saw their mind reach several conclusions rapidly as they worked through the implications, and they held out a hand. “Hey. I’ll listen, and none of it will ever see print, I promise. If you don’t want to talk about it…”

I shook my head. “I don’t. But you wanted an interview about something, so what did you want to ask me?”

“I didn’t really want to interview you, River. I wanted time with you to catch up. Find out how you were doing. If there’s something you wanted shared with the public, about the Inquisition, I’m more than happy to put it out there.”

I flushed. “Oh. I…Thank you. What should we do?”

“Well, there’s a bike trail not far from here. And if you want to give me an actual interview some day…well, I’d like to tell the public anything they should know about your mentor.” I thought about that. I liked the idea of a day with Tyler in the foothills. And…

I liked the idea of helping Arcadia get to know my mentor, too.


	27. Interview With An Inquisitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another all-River chapter. River and Tyler's date, with River's attempt at fixing Ash's public image.

**River**

Ash had gone to investigate a few leads and talk to his adoptive mother and his Mentor, about some ideas for the Inquisition, and do the things he usually did when he was troubled. I had my date with Tyler, and I harbored the vain hope that Ash would have relaxed a little bit by the time I got back.

I went to feed and water the horses. Daisy eagerly ate the hay I gave her, along with a bit of apple, but Quincy nickered as I approached, and I had to calm her down a little. “Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re used to Ash.” I gave her a gentle pat. “But he asked me to do this while he does his thing, and he’ll be back soon.” I went out and grabbed the bikes that people could use within the city to transport themselves, and went to go meet Tyler. 

I threw my leg over the bike saddle and went to the shop where I usually met them. They were smiling at me when they saw me, having opted for a slightly toned down version of their usual outfit, some tight-fitting jeans and a brightly colored jacket that still insisted on having studs because of course it scorching did, Tyler was wearing it and they’d never wear anything that wasn’t both punk and bizarre. They saddled up on a bike they’d gotten ready. They had a backpack that they assured me contained a lunch for both of us and a notepad and pen for their work. 

We rode for a while, and I rapidly realized as I rode that my legs had not been improved as much as I hoped by the workouts Ash had been making both of us do, and that horseback riding didn’t help even a little - or at the very least, that those were two seperate sets of muscles. I was panting after a hill that Tyler had effortlessly ridden up. I looked over the harbor - we’d gotten up far enough to have a clear view over the town. I knew the harbor was built out of salvage, many of the metallic components merely salvaged by dive teams going into the underwater ruin of the less-elevated half of Arcata - the one built before the Calamity, before Arcadia had been founded. There were a few ships, with solar powered engines and sails, being slowly guided in for offloading at the docks - I didn’t know if they were bound from further up or down the coast, or bound from Polynesia, where Ash said that many formerly colonized people had built a nation for themselves after their old world colonial structures had collapsed under the Calamity.

Tyler had gotten ahead of me again, still flashing those shocking white teeth from within that little smirk on their lips. “Come on, River. Catch me if you can.” I was too excited by that taunt to let my aching legs get in the way, and I forced myself to pedal faster until we got to the crest of a hill, where we both let ourselves coast down, taking the momentum and shooting into the bike trail into the forests. The bikes were tough and able to handle the bumpy path, though the bike saddle kept hitting me in unpleasant ways - I still wasn’t much of a biker.

“So, Tyler, where are we heading?” “You said you wanted to get out there and have a picnic, right? Somewhere no one would overhear anything?”

I shouted back over the wind whistling in my ears. “Yeah.”

“Then we’ll be riding a while.” The sun was high, but there was a stiff wind blowing. The sun was filtering beautifully through the clouds and the trees around us, and I was grateful for the jacket I’d brought. I felt the wind on my face, hearing Tyler’s laugh as I took in the green all around me and taking in the sharp scents of the pine forest around us as I gulped down air to keep me riding, I saw the forest and the land the way I knew Ash did - something truly divine. Not maybe, definitely something incredible, beautiful, the work and living body of the Arcadians’ Goddess. 

“Can’t wait.” I kept going, riding along as Tyler led me along the trail, through switchbacks and going deep into the forest. She pointed out a spot a little off the established trail. “Dismount. We’ll walk the bikes up this, then come back when we’re done.” I followed them up the hill and looked out over the small meadow and the rolling forest hills. Tyler ushered me into the sheltered side of a large, hollow tree and nodded. “This is where Saint Miora supposedly had her visions, by the way. This clearing. One of the hollow trees in this grove. The one over there has the shrine.” I smiled. It wasn’t hard to see how a Faith Druid could have a religious experience in these woods.

“So, Tyler. You had questions?”

“Yeah. What would you say about the assimilation of the refugees on the border?” They had drawn out their notepad and pen. “I’ll only include the parts you’re okay with, if you get personal. When I write the article at least.”

“I think - really quick, be clear that you’re interviewing a member of the Inquisition, but be clear that I don’t speak for the entire Circle of Inquisition, when you publish this.” Tyler nodded. I continued. “Right, I think that it’s going well. People seem very interested in living up to the Arcadian promise and helping the refugees adapt. I think the Guard morale is pretty high, at least according to a letter I got from my brother, who was excited at the idea of getting a bit back from Randaynia.”

Tyler nodded. “Right, and did that have any personal impact on you?”

I flushed, thinking on it, wincing at the memories of what I’d learned. “Right. Parts that are printable first. I think that I’m horrified to see the number of people who suffered what I did as a slave in Randaynia, but I am glad to see what Arcadia’s done to help them. I think that I saw the Caretaker Stewards, the Guard, all three Druidic Circles, and everyone else coming together to do the right thing for our fellow human beings.” I thought about if I wanted to include what I’d learned from Vera. 

“Broad strokes, I had a big emotional crisis because of some things I learned about my own family. I...I ran into someone I knew before I was enslaved myself. Someone who my family hurt.” There was a pause.

“To be clear, this is your biological family back in Randaynia, correct?”

I wobbled on whether or not to include this part into the article. “Yes. The individual in question has settled into a life in Arcadia, and it turned out they were in Crests and I wound up encountering them a bit. Found out things I hadn’t known, and dealing with the revelations took a lot out of me.” I hesitated. “Please, don’t include that part in the article.”

“It would do strange things to your reputation.”

“No, not that. It’s that the hierarchy of the Inquisition don’t like me or my mentor much, and Archdruid Belladonna would absolutely leak confidential files the Inquisition has on me - and I don’t want Van to get harassed by anyone looking for the half of the story she doesn’t want to relive. Ditto Beck - she’d leak something on him too.”

Tyler blanched. “She’s got that much against you? Damn.” They shook themselves. “Alright, next question: did you see any real weak point in how the situation was handled?”

I paused. “If I had to pick something? I’d say that the Inquisition gets thrown into a lot of things that it isn’t really trained for. Faith Druids have a job, and they do it. Education Druids and teachers both have that job, and they coordinate and do it. The Guard, the Caretaker Stewardship, the Adminstratia Stewardship, they all have something to focus on, and they do the job. In crises, the Inquisition’s nature is such that it gets thrown into any gap that needs more people, and that can cause problems. While we were there, we helped debrief refugees, interrogate ones who’d committed crimes that weren’t covered by the blanket pardon, check the backgrounds of foster parents applying to take in children, went on more than one combat patrol to intercept pursuing mercenaries, sometimes with Guardsmen, sometimes without - there was just a lot we got thrown at and I don’t know that I was adequately trained for more than two of the things I mentioned - and even those I think I needed more training to do really well.”

Tyler nodded. “So it’s a problem with Inquisition training?” “Yes and no. I think that we need to occasionally put resources aside for those other institutions so they can handle crises better - and yes, the Inquisition’s training should be expanded to help in a pinch.” 

Tyler nodded, then smiled. “Okay. I have a few other questions, since I want to know a little more about you, and I’ve been getting pestered by the editor to get a little out of the first foreign born Inquisitor.”

I nodded, nervously.

“Wait, didn’t we have that already?” Tyler checked their notes. 

“Right, right. One of our first dates. Right. Uh. You know. I wasn’t totally sure that I had gotten your permission to publish those.” 

“Of course. I want other Randaynian-born refugee kids to know they can be part of the Inquisition - that anyone can be part of that or the Faith Circle if they want. That they are good enough.” Scorch you, Belladonna.

Tyler nodded. “Alright. And now for one more round of questions. Your mentor is the famous - or infamous - Mentor Ash Roanoake, of the Circle of Inquisition, the Cinder of the War, right?”

“He hates that nickname, and he’d almost certainly prefer that you mention that people should probably stop calling him that in your article.”

Tyler chuckled in an unfairly distracting way. Focus, I told myself. You can do your best to get into bed with the gorgeous reporter after you fix Ash’s public image. Focus.

“Okay. What is Ash like?”

“I think it’s important to separate him from his reputation. He has one for being utterly without pity, mercy, emotion, hatred, sadness - his image is of a perfect machine doing the bidding of the Inquisition, all emotion burned out of him in the war. He leans in as hard as he can to it when it’s convenient to him. But he genuinely cares about the ideals of the Gaian faith - probably lives up to them better than the majority of people I’ve seen. He does feel quite a lot - I think the Crusade hurt him, in places that are never quite going to heal - and no, for anyone who’s seen him in person, I’m not talking about the missing fingers. He saved me and my brother back when he was a Guardsman, and he’s been nothing but supportive through any crisis or struggle I’ve had.”

Tyler nodded. “And what would you say he is as a mentor?”

“Patient. Infuriatingly high standards, but he’ll always wait and teach you until you meet them. Humble, too. At a guess, most famously excellent swordsmen would probably be something other than absolutely overjoyed and proud when an apprentice beats them in a fair duel - but Ash was nothing but proud when I finally got him.” I flushed. “More than that though, when I was struggling with personal things that I don’t want to tell your readers, Ash was patient and spent time meditating and talking with me until I got my head on right - and told me he was proud of me when I figured out the right thing. He’s dedicated to doing what he thinks is right, and is more than happy to go out on a limb or cross people with a lot more power than he has if someone needs him to.” 

Tyler looked at me, seriously. “Really? Even I didn’t know that. He seemed so...cold.”

“There’s a lot under the surface with him. He’s used to having to hide whatever he’s thinking or feeling, but there’s a lot going on underneath - people tend to be nervous around him, but I’ve never seen him take advantage of that to screw someone over or get them to let him break the rules just because it would be convenient.” 

Tyler nodded. “I’m happy that you have such a good mentor, then. What else woul you want the public to know about him?”

“Ash might seem scary, and I won’t argue that his blood runs colder than most, but he’s probably one of the best people I’ve ever met.” That was true enough, and Tyler scratched it down, then set down the notepad. 

“Alright. We’re somewhere people don’t tend to be very often.” Tyler leaned in and pressed their lips against mine, the sudden feeling of their lips sending a jolt through me.

I ran my hand over their short hair as they put a hand on my back. “Maybe you’d like something a little more confidential, Tyler?”

They gave me another smile, their shocking white teeth contrasted sharply against their autumn-brown face, the gold-flecked green eyes lit up by the sun. “I like the way you think, Inquisitor.”


	28. Ash's Review

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash reads the articles written out of Tyler's interviews with River

**Ash**

I was meditating when one another Inquisitor's apprentice – someone I knew, I think, came in. What was his name? Reed? Something like that. Related to river life. Most Druids were either born with nature names or changed theirs to nature names upon initiation. My fingers were spread on the grassy floor, as I attempted to commune with Gaia. I was at peace, listening to the birds singing around Arcata. 

“Mentor Ash.”

I ignored him, having heard his entrance. The other man hadn’t made a good entrance – had he been trying to sneak up he’d have failed spectacularly. What were they teaching the newbies these days? Maybe he was the idiot who’d gone around leaning on the Inquisition’s reputation and making everyone nervous? I took a deep breath and opened my eyes a crack, taking in his markings of rank.

”Yes, Apprentice?”

“My Mentor, and the Archdruid, wanted me to deliver this.” He handed me three slips of paper – one dated to before we’d left for Crests, the others dated within the last two days. I looked at all of them – newspaper clippings, articles written by Tyler Bridgewater - oh shit what had River told the world’s horniest reporter?

“And presumably to talk to someone about it?”

“They did not say.” His tone suggested that they had strongly implied it though. Scorch me. 

I decided to read the articles first. The first article was titled: “Randaynian Refugee to Arcadian Inquisitor – an Exclusive Interview with River Pamela.” It struck me that this was the first time I’d heard the last name of River’s adoptive parents – clearly she’d abandoned the old name after learning about what had happened. 

I read it quickly, taking in the information. River’s interview for that one had mostly been talking about the life she’d had in Randaynia, why she felt it important to serve Arcadia as a Druid of Inquisition, the life she’d had with her adoptive Arcadian parents, little tidbits about Beck and his career in the Guard – with little notes from Tyler that they were intending to do a follow-up on ex-refugees who’d become Guardsmen or filled other high risk jobs for Arcadia. It included heartfelt personal statements from River about her life since coming, things she was ready to talk about from her time before the rescue in the Crusade…In honesty, I had no idea what the Archdruid or her lackeys would object to in it – it laid out, in the most poignant way possible, the importance of the work we were doing, because it kept us from repeating the mistakes of the past, as someone who’d seen and suffered the consequences of said repetition firsthand. Tyler’s hand on the pen in the article was that of a reporter doing a heartwarming human interest story – but their admiration and kindness for my apprentice was clear and I couldn’t help but love them for that. River’s closing statement seemed geared towards winning the public’s support and antagonizing our in-Circle opponents. “I just want any Randaynian refugee to know that if you learn, if you truly learn and see and accept the Gaian Faith, you can commune with Gaia as well as anyone else – that you are good enough to be a Druid of any Circle.”

The second article was drawn from interviewing a number of sources, and it seemed to be Tyler’s coverage of the refugee crisis, most of it statistical analysis, it included interviews from Caretaker Stewards, farmers, tailors, builders, Guardsmen, Educators, Faith Druids…and one from River, who had apparently become Tyler’s go-to for the Inquisition's perspective on things. Which was unfortunate since I was positive that Archdruid Belladonna would prefer River be a skull on a stick decorating some Nihilon’s hideout than have her be the media’s point of interaction with the Inquisition – on one hand, it served the self-righteous egomaniac right, on the other, I had concerns that River would wind up getting assigned to a lot of really dangerous jobs with the goal of getting her killed if that continued. 

Her statements about the Inquisition not necessarily being equipped or trained as a good enough stopgap for things like this was a good one – I’d taught her field medicine, meditation, information gathering, swordplay, about some of the tenants of the faith, gardening, a few of my own ciphers for sending coded messages, but neither she nor I had been really prepared to help manage everything we’d been asked to. Still, having that out in the open couldn’t be pleasing the hierarchy. Her statements about seeing all of Arcadia come together might salve Belladonna’s anger, but not enough to avoid some degree of retaliation or strike against River for talking, me for letting her, and possibly Tyler for publishing all of it – though even Belladonna might balk at having a reporter attacked or killed, as press freedom to report on information they could get was sacrosanct in Arcadian law. Her heartwarming touch about being glad she could help Arcadia do for others what it had done for her was a good one, but my generalized emotional suppression was already strained at tamping down the worry I had about pissing off Belladonna. 

Then I got to the last one and the title alone enough to knock the wind out of me when I looked at it. “Ash Roanoake Insights – the Enigmatic Inquisitor’s Apprentice Speaks.” 

Poisoned Sky, why me? 

“For those of us who pay close attention to the publicly available records of the Circle of Inquisition, or even anyone who regularly attends the Harvest Season Arms Tournament in New Ukiah, the name of Ash Roanoke, Mentor Druid in the Circle of Inquisition, is well known. Most of us have heard his reputation as a nearly-emotionless Inquisitor, who, until work kept him from competing this last year, regularly proved himself the best swordsman in Arcadia. He is on record as having eliminated the man who began the fires in Yosemite almost two years ago, and many other missions besides. But until I sat down with his apprentice, River Pamela, now going by the name of her adoptive family in Arcadia, it was rare to hear anything about Ash as a person.”

Scorch me River why would you do this? I knew that I had gotten a reputation for my victories in the arms tournament – a vanity that I had maintained in the Inquisition as a way of proving to myself and everyone else that my wartime injuries hadn’t slowed me down or made me less capable – but to see that River had decided to blow away my façade to get the nation to see me as she did…

“What were you thinking, Apprentice?” I kept reading.

“According to his apprentice, River Pamela, Ash Roanoake is not the burned-out Cinder of War that many people believe him to be – and at her request I will say that he apparently hates that nickname and would most assuredly prefer people not use it.” I was getting actually angry – I understood that River wanted to improve my image but I actually would have tolerated being called the Cinder to NOT have people know about everything going on in my head all the time. “He’s probably one of the most faithful Gaians I’ve ever met – I’ve certainly never met anyone who lives the ideals of their faith like he does.” That was a heartwarming quote to know that River had said about me, but I liked what came next less.

When asked about Ash’s famously cold manner, River said, “He has some old wounds from the Crusades that still haunt him, and much of his emotional state comes from that.” Asking her about how this affected her time as his apprentice, she replied, “he’s been the best mentor I could have hoped for – been there for me when I needed it, and always supported me when I struggled. He’s got infuriatingly high standards but he’s like the best of teachers in that he’ll keep teaching until I’m able to meet them. Never loses patience.” 

My meditation was definitely ruined by this, but for once the emotions were positive. Partially. I was actually still somewhat furious about her exposing that I was still haunted by the Crusade. I did not need that to be public knowledge. “He doesn’t break the rules and I’ve never seen him lean on his reputation to get away with doing something wrong – or the Inquisition’s. If you see him, you don’t have to be afraid he’s going to hurt you unless you’ve actually done something wrong. I’ve seen him be very willing to take absurd risks to do what he thought was right, even when it meant pissing off people with a great deal of power. His blood might run a little colder than most, but he’s still one of the best people I’ve met, and given all the people I’ve come to know since arriving, that’s saying quite a lot.” 

I teared up a little at reading that and forced myself to think about the consequences of this. Now I was going to have to live up to all that and at least some of my plan required rulebreaking – I took a breath. This was my fault. She couldn’t know if she was fucking up a plan I refused to explain.

I set the articles down and kept meditating until River came back with the groceries I’d asked her to get while we were in town, and opened my eyes to glare at her a bit. “So, I read the interviews you gave.”

She blushed, and started speaking. “I’m sorry, I just, I wanted to show them what it was like, to let everyone know what we’re doing, and why it’s important and why they know they need to believe in all this, why refugees should be able to be part of it, and…I wanted them to know you, Ash. I get tired of seeing people flinch when you look at them, and don’t bother lying about it – I know it bothers you.”

She wasn’t wrong, but I had accepted it years ago. She was still going. “And I know that Belladonna’s going to be after me for this, but she was already going to be – and after you as well. I want the people to know who you really are, so that if and when things change, they know that you’re the one looking out for-“ I held up a hand. 

River had understood my plan better than I thought. Or more likely, she’d analyzed the situation and come up with one very similar to my own – I was glowingly proud of her. “We don’t know who’s listening. I’m proud of you, but calmly. Be careful, though. Next time you give an interview about me, let me know so I can make sure you don’t say anything I’m not ready to have people know.”


	29. A Standard Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River and Ash embark on a much more calm job for the Inquisition, the Arcadian economy is exposited on, Ash ponders Hanlon's Razor, and meets River's uncle

**River**

I kept expecting Belladonna to send for both Ash and I, or interrogate us about the interview I’d given, but she didn’t. A week rolled by without much incident before we were sent to Bay Hills. Ash got an order for us to follow, and we saddled up. I was hoping to get to say goodbye to Tyler, but Ash shook his head when I asked. “Let’s avoid drawing further attention. I promise we’re being watched.” That sounded ominous, but I gave Daisy a quick apple and got the saddle cinched on. Ash had saddled Quincy up and was visibly wincing as he forced his right hip up to get his leg into the stirrup. “Alright. We’re heading to Bay Hills. If you want to visit your parents when we’re done with the job we have to do there, we can.”

I stiffened a little, but I smiled at him. I did need to see my adoptive parents. It would do me good to see them, as I hadn’t had a chance to talk to them since I found out the truth about my biological parents. Daisy and Quincy trotted into the cool air of the early morning – the sun was just cresting over the tree-studded hills. “So, what are we doing in Bay Hills?”

“You know the strictures about housing management and the licenses the Caretaker Stewardship and Circle of Faith give out for anyone wanting to do that?”

“Yes?”

“Someone’s breaking the rules.”

That was ominous. One of the things that had most surprised me when I moved to Arcadia was the strictness of price control for essentials, like food, medicine, housing, and similar. He turned to me, looking like I was about to get one of those quizzes he occasionally dropped on the laws we enforced. “Tell me what you know about housing management laws.” Yeah, he was going to get his payback in quizzes. “In many parts of Arcadia, charging rent was originally outright prohibited, with many pre-Calamity apartments rebuilt and transformed into permanent housing for families. However, it was almost immediately realized that because many of those buildings had central wiring systems and plumbing pumps, it would almost always be more practical for the people within those complexes to elect someone from amongst their own to manage the building’s maintenance, in exchange for each tenant family contributing a few gold cedars each month for both a little boost to that individual’s income to compensate them for managing the building, while also creating a large pot to pay for any necessary maintenance.” It sounded a bit rote to me, but Ash would probably prefer that. To me that seemed like a much more humane solution to the issue of managing housing than the Randaynian “sterilize and enslave families who fall behind on rent or mortgage” or the pre-Calamity “throw them on the street and ignore their humanity enough to let them live or die according to the laws of Darwin because they didn’t have money to make rent for a few months.”

“So where do we come in?”

“Right. All that seemed like it might work initially, but as Arcadia expanded in the first century after the Calamity, things it became apparent that some parts of the economy would require more little more flexibility than was originally planned. For instance, where people often have jobs that kept them from settling down in one place – caravanners, Delvers, migrant farmers, that kind of thing – it often winds up being impractical to hold elections amongst groups of people who aren’t, mostly, going to stay in the area for the full year. In such situations, it was legalized for an individual who would be subjected to rigorous background checks, character examinations, and have to apply for the license to own and rent out housing structures. Oftentimes the individuals who did this were physically disabled – in fact, I heard from someone during Initiation Training that the Faith Circle and the Stewardships tend to favor the physically disabled for the application process, but I don’t know if that’s true. It makes sense though, since it’s work they can do, while also making it more likely that such buildings would be more accessible – but not always.”

Ash nodded, smiling. “And why is it that it’s us enforcing it instead of the Guard?”

“Because of the Faith’s involvement in the licensing, and the environmental damage that results from homeless camps. It’s our job to enforce Faith laws and protect the environment, so…” I was already curious as to what had happened, but I suspected Ash would tell me when we arrived. He just nodded and stayed quiet, and I offhandedly wondered if the payback for talking when he didn’t mean for me to was going to be quizzes and a lack of answers.

We weren’t far from the city gates when Ash turned towards me. “So, we are going to go investigate a housing manager who’s been claiming a lot more expense for restoring a building than they’re actually having. We wouldn’t have found out if one of the people in the building wasn’t friends with the builders’ guild in the city, who told her that she was getting ripped off if that was the real rate of rent. So, they did what people do when someone breaks rules that will scorch the environment, and they sent a message to the Inquisition to go deal with the problem.”

That actually answered a lot of questions, though I had a few others. It also gave me an option for investigating it – one of my adoptive uncles was part of the Builder’s Guild in Bay Hills. “What are we doing? Never been on one of these kinds of missions before. I take it we’re not going to kill him, right?”

“No, Gaia no.” Ash’s voice sounded vaguely insulted. “We’re just going to gather evidence, full testimony from all affected parties, look at his receipts, ledgers, the amounts of money he’s taken in, all that kind of thing. If the shit doesn’t balance out and it’s proven that he’s behaving in a manner unbecoming a licensed housing manager, we arrest him, and take him to a court where he’ll be tried. He can choose secular or druidic court, but he’ll lose his license if he’s convicted in either.” I nodded, relieved. I had no idea what the consistent penalty was for heresy, though most of Ash’s interactions with heretics – that I’d seen or heard of, anyway – tended to go a little light on conversation and a little heavy on swordplay. And while Ash might have been physically disabled himself, I’d seen the housing managers who handled most of these places, and the idea of him going after any of them – or me doing it, for that matter – blade in hand made me sick.

Still, as we made camp that night, I went off to go snare a rabbit – things did breed fast, and this time of year the hunting of small game for food was outright encouraged – as Ash built the fire with a quick flurry of his knife, gripped in the limited fingers of his bad hand, flicking against flint to spark the flames.

I shot the rabbit, murmuring the Hunter’s Litany that Ash had taught me some time ago. The little prayer was one of thanks to Gaia for the bounty of nature, of acknowledging the sacrifices made by animals for humans, and what we were obligated to provide in return. Ash said it was drawn from pre-Calamity cultures who honored Gaia in their own way, though under a different name, different faces.

The rabbit was easy enough to skin and dress, and bringing it back to the fire, I quickly drew the little iron skewers and the little weighted string Ash used to keep them rotating and got the thing set up. I unhooked my wooden katana from the place it was hanging from the saddle, and unbelted the real one. Ash dropped his real saber and plucked the sparring one from his saddle with a flourish – I could see a trace of pain cross his face as he did so and stepped on his right foot. He still started every match with that though – a little signature to start a bout with.

He swept the blade up in a salute to match my own and then as we began, he whipped it in the beginning of a dual-cross across the chest – one that I’d seen him use in skirmishes to leave an opponent bleeding out with blood fountaining from their heart. I swept away from the first stroke, deflected the second with a parry/riposte, which Ash deflected with gusto before delivering a palm-heel strike to my chest, one that he rapidly had to pull back as I swiped at his wrist. I twisted around and checked Ash with my body, and he stumbled on his bad leg, looking to be in physical pain while he did so. For a split second, I hesitated, worried about my Mentor and he recovered, wooden blade striking my diaphragm hard.

I got my breath back then glowered at him. “You prick! I thought you were hurt!”

“Ah. That’s why you stopped when you had me dead to rights. You shouldn’t have, you know. We were still sparring. A real enemy wouldn’t have shown me mercy simply because I stumbled, nor would they have done any different than I did had you made the mistake of showing any. Let’s try again.” I got back to my feet and pressed the attack as ruthlessly as I could, and had the brief flicker of conscience as he staggered back, until he whirled his blade around in a quick windmill maneuver, loosening my grip before thrusting down to disarm me and flicking it back up at my throat.

“Well done, Apprentice. We’ll call it a one to one, tonight. But I’m not counting any blown victory because of mercy as a win from here on.” I chuckled, ruefully. Ash wanted to teach me to survive, and I guess he’d know better than anyone how well “mercy” and “survival” mixed, or didn’t, on the battlefield. He poured a bit of the tea he’d brewed over the fire into the tin cups we had, and we each ripped into our share of the meat. As we sipped the tea, I spread my fingers against the earth and he smiled at me.

“Alright, try to meditate.” I took a deep breath, taking in the air, listening to the forest around us, the moon and starlight filtering through the trees and being felt on my skin, the crickets in the trees filling the air where silence would have been.

Ash’s breathing slowed, and I eventually opened my eyes, looking at the stars and moon shining down through the trees. I looked at Ash’s dark, normally inexpressive face and saw a slight, serene smile on it. I smiled at the sight, and at the memory of Tyler’s flashing grin, then forced myself to refocus on the forest.

**Ash**

River and I took the time to perform one of the sacraments, planting a few seeds around the site of our cookfire and praying over them, then burying the viscera of the rabbit, the parts we could not eat or use, as a way of helping fertilize the soil or feed scavengers. We brushed the horses’ tails out, fed them their oats and apples, watered them, and laid out our bedrolls while taking the saddles and tack off Quincy and Daisy.

“Have you heard the renewal prayer?” I thought it was something to ask River, to see what she’d learned as an initiate – I actually hadn’t, though I’d heard others had. She nodded, and I shrugged. I said the prayer around the firepit, while River spoke in unison. “Gaia, we have taken of your bounty and have renewed our own obligation to help sustain you. In so doing, we have returned some of that which we have taken to the soil, that it may allow growth to spring anew. Fides Mater Nostra.”

The words at the end were Latin, I explained to River. A language associated with mystical faiths before the Calamity, and one that had been spoken by a nation that had collapsed sixteen-odd centuries before the Calamity, but one that had amused the Founders of Arcadia and enough of the Saints that its words for “Faith in Our Mother” had been adopted by the Druidic circles as a way of closing a prayer, adding some of the weight of history to it.

We went to sleep, and when the next day came, we rode to Bay Hills. Dismounting at the stables, taking bikes and riding into the city to meet with the people who’d sent for the Inquisition. We’d been told that they would meet us at the Archives to hand us the evidence, though we’d gotten here some six hours early – for some reason people always underestimated how long it would take the Inquisition to get somewhere. Then again, our horses were courier mounts, meant for running. Most of the ones they knew were bred to pull a plough or cart. River seemed to like cities – though I never liked them much myself, always preferred the countryside. Then again, the village of my birth had been a farming town, and my adoptive family had more or less kept me in rural places too, and most of my time in cities had been spent either dealing with problems in Arcadia or spilling blood into Randaynian gutters as a member of her Guard.

I decided to check in with the building manager first – it was well known that the Inquisition did do surprise inspections on these things, and us simply doing so because we were in the area would draw no particular suspicion.

The individual in question was a man with clear muscular dystrophy in his legs and arms, a limp far more pronounced than mine, and I felt a flicker of guilt at the badgering we were giving him – but we were here on a matter of license, and we were here to handle a few key matters. The guy, Ben Ryerson, was actually pretty friendly, showing us where his ledgers were without much complaint or grumble. I looked them over and it actually seemed to be in good order. It listed a somewhat higher than normal rate of rent, but also a somewhat higher than normal rate of repair requirement – and a somewhat higher than normal rate of expense to get said maintenance done.

“Irregularity, Mr. Ryerson?”

“No. The regulations are fixed such that I can charge rent commiserate with the expense of keeping a building intact. If you don’t mind me asking, what’re the standard rates for maintenance costs?”

I took a moment. “Usually depends on material, time, that kind of thing. How many hours per month do the builders spend working here?”

“Usually not much, but there’s been some structural problems – been about eight hours a week, these last few months.” That did raise my eyebrows, and River’s too. I didn’t know why, but I glanced at her.

“You have any thoughts, River?”

She nodded. “Yeah. My uncle Trevor is in the Builder’s Guild here. We can ask him about the situation – maybe he knows something about this building we should, or the residents should?”

I grinned, widely. “Apprentice, that is exactly the kind of thing you need to think of to do this job well. We still have some time.” I glanced at Ryerson. “I’m going to be borrowing your ledger. My name is Ash Roanoake, and I give you my word it will come back unmarked and unaltered.”

The man looked between the two of us, and nodded. His eyes widened when I mentioned River’s name, and when I introduced myself he outright winced – he’d heard my reputation. I hoped River’s little game with Tyler paid off.

Finding River’s uncle, a bear of a man who roared when he saw her, did me good. “River, good to see you back here. You going to visit your parents this time? Last time you were in town they didn’t hear of it til after you left.”

She flushed a little and nodded. “Yeah, we’ll visit them. Hey, Uncle, I have a question. We’re here on a mission to look into some strange housing management – came with the ledger.” I showed the guy the ledger and he grunted.

“Ah, yeah. That’s a complicated one. It’s not the old guy who runs the place who’s responsible, though. Thing is….” He turned and thundered, “Harvey, where’s the blueprints?”

“The blueprints for what?”

“That wasted wreck over on ninth.”

“Should be on the coffee table.”

“Thanks, hun.” He turned around and picked up the blueprints and laid it out on the table in front of us. “Yeah, so the problem is that…look, the building is old. Pre-Calamity. The previous manager didn’t realize quite a lot of things about it, didn’t realize everything going wrong with it. We’ve been trying to work with it, but the thing is, it was certified by a faulty inspector some years before. Getting it into regulation is going to take some time, and a lot of money.” Oh fuck I knew where this was going.

River asked a question. “Alright, so can I ask about a quick question? Why did the Inquisition, or the Stewardship, or the Faith, not hear about what sounds like…well, several layers of incompetence before we got a competent individual trying to fix the problem being accused of…well, extortionist rent? Also, why would someone tell the Inquisition that the builders weren’t getting paid as much as he was saying they were?”

Trevor shrugged. “Could be that the guild leaders aren’t keeping good books? What’s in this guy’s ledger is actually pretty much what you’d expect for the level of repair that’s required.”

I answered, already groaning as I realized what was going on. “As to the second part, because no one wants to look stupid, and “someone is charging extortionist rent” only screws one guy. “An idiot in the Civic Engineering Stewardship certified a bad building, which another idiot then helped a bunch of other idiots who never noticed a structural problem, and then a new idiot came in and took the helm and tried to fix the whole thing by charging the idiots living there while being too dumb to explain things to them, and the Guild might have been scorching up their own books from bad math and decided to pin it on the guy,” makes everyone look stupid. Which they may deserve but obviously want to avoid. We’ll look over the evidence later in the day, but I’m really tempted to just say that these people need to fill out a quick set of forms to get relief funding to fix the building or get people moved out of it. We’ll do our due diligence just in case but this is going to be a vital lesson, River: never assume anyone is being malicious when you can assume that a bunch of people were just being stupid. Stupidity is a lot more common than evil.”

Trevor was glowering through the first part, but by the time I finished he was trying hard to restrain laughter.

“Damn, that article wasn’t wrong, was it? You really are a lot more than an emotionless automaton from the old world – got a good sense of humor on you, and a good feel for people.” I felt like one half of those things was true, but I took the compliment.

“Thank you.”

Before I managed to get out the door - and therefore away from this gregarious builder - he asked River a question. “Hey, River. You still allowed to be part of the Solstice Song Festival? I mean, while you’re in the Inquisition?”

“No.”

“Yes. She is. I didn’t...know she wanted to enter.” The words left my mouth a split second after River had answered. River blushed, vividly. 

“She used to enter every year before she got Apprenticed. I know you two have probably been on missions during the Solstice Festivals of the last two years, or thought she wasn’t allowed anymore. She used to do pretty well, too.”

I glanced at River, who was still looking a little embarrassed.

**River**

I tried to remind myself, my uncle Trevor is a great guy. He really is. But sometimes, he really, royally, screws up. Like when he mentioned to Ash - steely, emotionally repressed ASH of all people, about the fact that I enjoyed singing as a hobby, and that for a while, like a lot of people, I’d written my own songs for the Solstice Festival and always been among those selected to actually perform them for the village. 

Ash’s grey eyes showed no emotion - but I knew him well enough to know that dinner with my family, once we finished with this little case, was going to be a bit more involved than I had planned.


	30. River's family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash meets the Pamelas, talks about River's training and hobbies. Mostly a feel-good chapter

**Ash**

The meeting with the builders went more or less as planned, and I sent River to go get Ryerson and bring him here, supporting him as needed along the way – “Make it clear he’s not under arrest, by the way.” I was still shaking my head from the sheer idiocy of the situation – people just talking and admitting to their mistakes would have saved me the trip – then again, I really loved traveling this time of year, and it wasn’t like I minded the Inquisition having to pay travel expenses every once in a while. 

I headed over to the archives and sat down with the group. “From the sounds of the situation, having investigated around, there isn’t really anyone who’s done anything illegal. There’ve been a series of stupid mistakes regarding the building that Mr. Ryerson is currently operating - it almost certainly wasn’t up to code when he got licensed to run it, and it probably shouldn’t have been cleared to have people living in.”

Just then, River brought in Ryerson himself. “Oh, good you two could join us. Offhand, Ryerson, good news. The Inquisition would like to inform you that you’re not being arrested for anything, the bad news is that the building you’re managing really isn’t suitable for habitation - the Engineering Stewardship probably shouldn’t have cleared it. The repairs and refits are going to continue to be fairly difficult, and expensive. We can call for the Stewardship to dispense some degree of aid to make it work, but the reality is that continuing to live in that building is going to be expensive for time. I can see to it that the application for aid gets through sooner but you will all have to figure out amongst yourselves how things are going to proceed - once you’ve finished, leave the written out contract at the Inquisition sanctum here and I’ll see to it that it gets sealed and witnessed appropriately.” If they had just talked this all out like rational people it would have been a lot less annoying for them, and me, but such was life.

And I did get to meet River’s family, which I was excited for. As we left the Archives, with the tenants, housing manager, and builder’s guild representatives grumbling behind us, I turned to my apprentice. “So. Meeting your family should be good. Have you talked to them much? Since your Initiation, I mean.”

She seemed nervous about answering that, but I could tell her answer was truthful when it came. “Yeah. Been writing letters for them when I drop by the Archives. Getting some back. They’re proud of me.”

“Good. They should be - you’re learning fast. And you’ve earned your position, whatever that snake Belladonna wants to say about it.” River flushed.

“Thank you, Mentor. So, we do have a few hours to kill before we go see them...what should we do in the meantime?”

I thought about it, then decided to twist the knife - I had to get my payback for the article, after all. “Singing, huh?”

She flushed. “I never thought you’d care about that. You don’t seem...I mean, you’re not…”

I suddenly felt a bit hurt, and a little ashamed. Did she feel like I wouldn’t be interested to hear about her passions? Or that she thought I had no interest in music? I mean, I couldn’t really claim I had much talent or knowledge of it, but I appreciated it when I heard it. 

“I didn’t know if I was supposed to talk about stuff outside Druid Circle things with my Mentor, and you never really tell me anything about yourself that isn’t related to the mission, so…”

I groaned. “Oh. Oh, River. Yes. You’re allowed to have interests other than gardening, swordplay, and the Gaian faith. We might be servants of Gaia, but we are still people with our own lives, hobbies and passions outside that. I’m...kind of a special case. I was raised by Druids - one Faith Druid, one Inquisitor. That, and uh.” I felt very awkward, and admitted something to myself that I didn’t often. “I don’t really have a lot else, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to. You’re actually allowed to pursue your other passions - supposed to, actually - while learning to be a Druid. It’s supposed to be about developing yourself to understand as much as you can. It’s an area I’ve never really been good at.”

I felt ashamed - it was an area I was singularly inappropriate to mentor her in, and it was one I’d apparently delayed her work in because my general isolation from the world had mislead her. “Can I hear you sing, River?”

She shook her head. “I’ll sing for you. But I think I need time to work out a song. We’re allowed to write our own or to pick a song from the Archives that really resonates with us for the Solstice Celebration. You want to let me attend one, and give me time to work on it, I’ll let you hear me sing.” I nodded, I could accept that. 

“And for now - want to walk in the woods, spar, anything?” Her tone was casual but her body language was tense. 

I shrugged, and nodded. “Is there some reason you seem so nervous, Apprentice?”

“I...I keep thinking about how I kept my birth surname for so long. After the Pamela’s took me in and encouraged me to try to become an Inquisitor, after they’d held me through all my nightmares, I kept the old name, and they were understanding, but now that I know, now that I’ve had it changed to theirs…”

“You’re worried they’ll ask about what happened? What made you change?”

“And I’m worried they won’t look at me the same if I answer. I keep telling myself that Arcadians don’t hold to the “blood tells” thing about success or ethics, but I’m...still worried about it.” 

I sighed. “They aren’t going to turn you out. I was never good enough at cards to be a betting man, but if I was I’d say Beck already told them when he found out - and they still care about both of you. Just look at the idiots whose mess we had to come down here to deal with - if they’d all just talked about a problem instead of assuming the worst, they’d have saved us a trip. Talk to your parents about the situation and save yourself some worry.”

**River**

Ash’s oddly relaxed approach to the situation set me at ease. The situation with the building, I mean. His questions about singing made me nervous, but his reaction to my answer set me at ease. I was more and more sure I had done the right thing in talking to Tyler. I was fairly sure I was among the handful who actually knew Ash for more than his mask of the peerless swordsman with the icy eyes and steadfast faith and see what was underneath - a genuinely good but bitterly, poisonously lonely and depressed man getting old before his time.

“I’ll sing for you. But I think I need time to work out a song. We’re allowed to write our own or to pick a song from the Archives that really resonates with us for the celebration.” I had accepted. Ash had taken that with a little smile.

I was trying to get him to let me get some of the anxiety, but he was too smart for that. He asked me. I didn’t mean to tell him everything I did, but that almost preternatural calm coaxed it out of me. As always, he offered some decent advice. I was hoping he was right. They had always been quite forgiving, so I could hope. I still wanted to get in some sparring with Ash, and said so.

He smiled. “If we’re still doing that, I want you to try something. Take a deep breath when you draw your sword, and let it out slowly during the salute. Try to keep your breathing as steady as you can while we fight. It’ll help keep you calm.”

I reflected as I did so that only Ash would think “calm” was a necessary state of mind for visceral melee combat, but hey, he was the expert, so I’d give it a try. It was a good match, and my nervousness about my parents wound up fading as the blades clashed and our bodies twisted around trying to gain an edge on each other - I decided to try midblading a few times, even though that wasn’t really normally associated with my weapon, it seemed to work, and Ash grinned at the improvisation when I almost got him.

By the time we bathed and started actually heading to my parents, I was feeling better. I was relaxed. Yet, when Ash approached the apartment I’d grown up in and rapped his knuckles against the door, I was nervous. The door opened, and I saw my mom. Dark hair framing a pale, freckled face lighting up at seeing me. My dad, dark as oiled teak and twice as sturdy, smiling at me. “River. It’s so good to see you again. How has your training gone?” They were holding me and it felt so good to feel that again, to feel loved by my family, and it took a minute before they realized my mentor was even there.

I could tell from his face that he was a little wistful at the sight, but my dad was already grabbing Ash’s hand in his - the two men traded grips. “You’re River’s mentor, right?”

I could see a flicker of confusion cross Ash’s sun-weathered face, but I saw the trace of a smile there, as well. “Yes.”

“Good to meet you, Ash. She’s told us a lot about you. First off, though, thank you. For protecting her. She told us what happened with the Nihilons last time you passed through this area.”

Ash had clearly forgotten that. “Oh. No, it was no trouble.” 

My mom was already moving to set the table. “Daniel, could you..?”

He nodded and got working. Ash asked if he could do anything to help and Mom shook her head. “No. You’re coming in for dinner. I wanted to ask about how River’s training is going.”

I was nervous, and I coughed a bit. “Mom, Dad. Uh. I don’t know if you saw…”

“Saw what?”

“The articles my partner wrote. About…”

“Crests? Yeah, we heard you’d done a good job there. And reading that you had such a high opinion of your mentor...we have to admit, no offense, sir…”

“Just Ash.” His voice was as flat as ever, and I got the distinct impression that he was messing with them - I caught the trace of amusement there, but I didn’t know what the joke was, and I was certain that no one else heard the laughter in his tone. 

“We’d heard a lot of things about the man assigned as your mentor - a lot of them kind of terrifying. So when we read that you and he were getting on well, and that he had your back, it was a relief. That, and we were glad to know you were doing well - I was worried, when you first joined the Inquisition, that they’d scare you - I know the ones who occasionally came by with Caretaker Stewards for foster checkups always did.

I was blushing, though Ash’s face remained impassive. “And...did you see how Tyler wrote my name?”

That got their attention. “Yes. You’re using our surname now. I was so happy to see it.” 

“Do...you want to know why?”

“From your letters before you went to Crests, and what Beck’s told us he’s learned since he found Vanessa again...I think you found out about your biological family.”

“Do you...forgive me for not taking your name sooner?”

My father burst out laughing. My mother hugged me. “Sweetie, we were never mad to begin with. You’re fine. Now, tell me that you still like your dad’s pulled pork? We’ve got some greens from the garden, a bit of plum sauce and some bread to go with it. Oh, and Ash, you don’t have any allergies to any of that, do you?”

Ash shook his head, calm as ever. The night was good. We talked about training, Ash’s voice colored with the trace of pride I had learned to tease out in it, our work in Crests, the fight with the Nihilons - both my parents seemed a lot more relaxed about the knowledge of the combative aspects of my career than they’d seemed when I had written about it to them. Their return letters had seemed a lot more worried about me than they seemed right now, anyway. 

“What brought you to Bay Hills, if that isn’t an Inquisitorial secret?”

“Idiots. Honestly. You can ask your…” he glanced at my father, clearly making the correct guess based on both my father and uncles’ coloring and build, as well as the jawline - “brother about my analysis of the “extortionist rent” situation. Still, glad I got to meet you, Mr and Mrs. Pamela.”

Ash’s questions about my music were a bit embarrassing, but my parents’ eager questions like it was a parent-teacher conference somehow topped them. Then again, I know that’s arguably what this was, but still. I couldn’t stop noticing little touches - the stained, ugly tablecloth that Beck and I had sewn was the one they’d set the meal on. Mom’s potholder was the one I’d knitted - hell, the mugs my dad and Ash were drinking from were ones I’d made when I’d tried pottery ages ago.

Little touches. When Ash and my dad were drinking, my mom tossed me my old blanket - the one that she’d gotten for me after I’d woken up crying a few too many times. “If you want to travel, and if you’re going somewhere cold, maybe bring this. A way of remembering that you always have a home, okay?” I felt like crying again. After what I’d learned about my biological parents, finding out that my adoptive parents - my real parents - still loved me this much was just making me melt. 

There were pictures on the wall as well - the one from Beck’s graduation, and mine. The one of Beck in Guard Dress Uniform, right when he’d been sworn in, and me, on the day of my initiation, wearing my Initiate tunic. 

They were still proud of me. “Hey, if you wind up singing again, let us know so we can come. Oh, and Ash. If River ends up entering the Harvest Arms Tournament with you, let us know.”

**Ash**

River’s family were wonderful - I could see why she’d been happy to see them again, and why she might have been scared of losing their affection - it would have been a lot to lose. Her parents asked me a fair few questions about her training, how she did as a student, how she seemed to be doing. I answered as honestly as I could.

I had a question that I had to ask. “So, her uncle mentioned she was a good singer. What’s she done over the years?” 

“Few covers, few original pieces. She’s got an amazing voice, and her guitar skill isn’t bad.”

I looked at River. “You know you are allowed to carry an instrument as a Druid - even an Inquisitor. If you want to go get your guitar, you’re welcome to - though if you don’t have a waterproof case or a way of getting one I understand the reluctance. Rain plays wastes on the strings, or so I’m told.”

She nodded, still embarrassed, though I wasn’t sure why. We ate, and I agreed to a very small cup of the ale her father offered me. I drank it with him, and suddenly felt a little warm. Watching River spend time with her family filled me with longing. It wasn’t that Willow had ever made me doubt that I was loved, or ever made me feel inadequate, it was just that, watching the Pamelas with River, I was fairly sure that Bethany and Daniel Pamela had made River and Beck their top priority since the two orphaned refugees had been taken in years ago. When I’d come to my adoptive parents after the Arcitin outbreak that had wiped out the farming community of my birth, I’d been well treated and well loved, but both of them seemed to see my arrival as an additional priority rather than a big contender for the top slot. 

With a shrug I took in the ale I’d been offered. “So, Daniel, Bethany, thank you for having us. I see where River got her compassion. You did an excellent job raising her - she’s been a really wonderful Apprentice, and I look forward to seeing her progress to Journeyer and Adept rank. She’ll probably be a good Mentor some day.”

They both thanked me for that, and right when I turned to go, Bethany grabbed my arm in a way that made me jump. It was gentle, but people didn’t just touch me like that. “Sir…”

“I said, just Ash.” She nodded. “Right. I just wanted to ask. You are the one who rescued our kids from Randaynia, right? Back when you were a Guardsman?”

I nodded. Then I got hugged by both Pamela parents, and I admit it felt pretty nice. Her father shook my hand again. “Thank you. And thanks for looking out for her. She mentioned some stuff to us about trouble in the Inquisition. And that you were looking out for her. She said she couldn’t tell us more, can you?”

I shook my head. “Honestly even knowing that might be more than you should admit to. But I’ll look out for her. And seriously, don’t worry about me helping her with Nihilons - she’s turning out to be an excellent swordswoman in her own right, and anyone who wants to hurt her has to do it over my dead body.” Though, I reflected, it wasn’t as though I couldn’t aggravate Belladonna enough to get her to arrange that. But it would take a lot of arranging, and that, on its own, tended to make River pretty safe. 

“Thank you for your hospitality. Hopefully I can bring River home again soon to spend some time with you. It’ll depend on where we’re called next, but one can hope.”


	31. Before the Journey Through the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and River discuss what comes next and get ready to go on a long diplomatic mission through a land with an abundance of bad memories for both of them. Warnings for PSTD.

**River**

It had been two weeks since our early-September visit in Bay Hills, and I’d gotten a letter from Beck. Some of it was news I’d already had – the last of the Randaynian bosses had been murdered by the captain of his mercs, said mercs had then turned around to rape and pillage before being quickly enveloped and crushed by three regiments of well-supplied, well-trained and rested Arcadian Guardsmen. The Arcadian flag now flew over the entirety of Randaynia. Beck’s letters had confirmed his survival, and his shock at the ferocity of the battles. I’d heard the 14th had taken the worst of it, and had sagged with relief when the letter had arrived informing me that Beck was still alive.

Even if some of the things he said indicated that the battles would haunt him, if less than they did Ash. I’d said as much to him, and Ash had winced. “He’s fighting professionals, from what I’d heard. That’s got advantages and disadvantages over fighting conscripts.”

I had a hunch of what Ash would say – certainly I understood why I’d struggle more fighting conscripts on an emotional level than I would have professionals, and given that Beck had begged to be allowed to sign on as a conscript to keep us out of slavery I could only shudder at the thought. He’d been too young, though. “Because,” Ash replied, a slight shudder under his voice that was entirely uncharacteristic for him, “I can fight the kind of professional killers who would sign on to fight for that regime for coin with little to no remorse. They’re better fighters, but let them come at me, hand me a crossbow and a sword, and I’ll send them home in pieces. Everyone who chooses to take up a weapon is taking that risk, on some level, that they might die for whatever they’re fighting for – and any life freely offered to uphold a regime that awful, I’m entirely fine with taking. There are absolutely disadvantages to fighting them. Almost all of our casualties during the Crusade were inflicted by the professionals, and the conscripts never managed anything more than phyrric victories against us. But fighting conscripts - desperate, barely-military age, poverty-wracked kids who signed on to keep themselves and their families out of slavery and got at best a few days of training before they have machetes and hatchets shoved into their hands and told to rush a Guard firing line? How do you think a bunch of barely trained boys in nonexistent armor did against eight aimed bolts a man-minute from an entire battalion? Their officers knew how it would go, so did we. They just wanted us to use up ammo on mouths they didn’t want to feed. But those poor kids just kept charging our line because retreating would be violating their contract and screwing their families.” Ash’s voice was breaking towards the end. “And we slaughtered them.”

I shuddered as Ash’s façade broke – a thing I’d never seen it do before. Not like this. He turned away and his shoulders shook.

“Not that Beck won’t have his psychological scars to bear from this – if he was fighting their trained troops, he lost friends in the battles he fought. You should be prepared to support your brother through some really foul moods, some real grief, and an ugly side of him you might not have seen before.”

I nodded. I wondered why I felt so little when I was fighting the likes of the Nihilons…maybe it wasn’t a mystery. Everything had happened so fast I hadn’t had time to be horrified or feel guilt, and the battles with slavers weren’t going to do much to my conscience – not after what people like them had done to me. At any rate, Ash was definitely more informed on what combat did to a person than I was, so I took in his words. Anything that could make my mentor break down like that had to have been truly awful.

The wind cut through the trees as the fog sank over the hilltop we were standing on for our meditation – and despite the heavy jackets we wore, I shivered. “Ash, are you going to be okay for this trip?”

He nodded. “Are you? We’re probably going to be passing through Randaynia – you’ll see a lot of old, bad sights.”

I had a question. “Why is the Inquisition going?”

“We aren’t the only Druids – there’s two really decent ones I know from the Circle of Faith going as well. But we’re going to do our usual investigation and make sure everything’s up to the faith’s standards. Plus, after we arrive we are supposed to leave our Guardsmen there, pick up some of the ones on deployment, and have them with us when the diplomatic mission heads through to the Bayou Confederacy, since they’re about to be our new eastern neighbor, and we’d like to smooth things over so they know Arcadia has no designs on further expansion.”

That made a depressing amount of sense – from what I knew, Arcadia was something of a titanic power. More troops, well equipped, a lot of resources, a strong, democratic government and a population that was pretty homogenous on the ideological issues that Arcadia tended to fight over. It took a popular movement to start a war in Arcadia, but all the prior factors together meant that when they came to fight, they’d crush you. I didn’t think Arcadia was likely to invade the Bayou – they were good trade partners, and the swamp folk and fishermen had more than a few things about their culture that Ash seemed to approve of.

Still, it seemed an important mission to send two people you didn’t like on. “So why are we being sent?”

“Because it’ll keep you away from Tyler, which will mean they don’t publish any more articles that start pulling up public sentiment that will make anything I want to do to derail Belladonna’s plans easier. And because it means I’m not here to muck around with anything else she’s planning. I’ll be away from a lot of my contacts and unable to lay further groundwork – and say what you will for our opponent, she’s got the mind of a brilliant Inquisitor.”

That was a surprising statement. My mentor often spoke of many enemies’ cunning or skill, but he rarely sounded like he was actually praising them. “I thought you hated her.”

**Ash**

How to answer that question? “I do. She has an incredible intellect and skill at these sorts of things that could have served the interests of Gaia and Her children, and instead Belladonna uses it to keep a hierarchy that benefits her and allows her to look down in judgement on anyone who didn’t have the privilege of proper education in the Faith – a flaw similar to that of many otherwise positive political movements in the After. Such denial of renewal and self-interested scheming would be a flaw in anyone – in someone as smart, well-educated and well-placed as her, it dances at the ragged edge of heresy. But she’s had the same training I’m giving you for reading people, getting leverage, evaluating consequences. Don’t ever underestimate her. She might not be our equal with a blade but she’s every bit as smart if not smarter than we are. By the time we get back, she’ll have things circulating via backchannels that set our plans back, all while keeping her hands clean of them, but it’ll keep the Inquisition chasing its tail to deal with rumormongers and troublemakers. And guess who will be sent on those missions? Could it perhaps be the Mentor-Apprentice duo that Belladonna wants to keep from talking to the press ever again?”

I could tell River thought this was disproportionate, but I could also see the scurry of her head, figuring out another idea. Though she also seemed hurt that she wouldn’t be seeing Tyler for a while as a result of Belladonna’s malice. “To be fair, you did put in interviews a bunch of things that set into motion public opinion shifts that’ll make her desire for control a lot harder to attain. She’s obviously going to be unhappy. She’ll loosen when she thinks she’s gotten far enough ahead. We have other avenues though.”

I saw River smile a little too widely. “Don’t worry, Ash, I have an idea.”

“Clear it with me.” It wasn’t a request, last time she’d had an idea I’d had a panic attack at my façade being blown.

“Relating to the music festival. For that matter, are we going to be back in time for the arms tournament?”

I shook my head. “Thought of the latter, no. The Song Festival might work for you, though. If people like your performance enough. Get some attention. Get to rub elbows with a lot of people with more connections. Good thinking.”

River grinned. “Right. Hey, Ash?” She sounded hesitant. “We’re heading into some territory with some bad memories for both of us, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. We are. Talk to me if you need anything. Try not to worry too much if I wake up shouting or crying. We’ll manage. And depending on what unit gets sent to the Bayou with us, your brother may be in the honor guard, so you’ll be able to talk with him about…” I lingered. “Everything.” That could mean exactly as much as she wanted it to mean or far more. I’d let her decide.

She winced and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I really should talk to him about…” She didn’t finish the sentence. That was fine. I knew better than just about anyone that sometimes things were best left unsaid until it was truly time to say them – if she thought this was one of them, this matter for her and her brother and their family’s victim, I wasn’t going to press. Though it may be Vera’s right to push, it wasn’t mine.

“Alright. Let’s make sure the horses are clean, saddled, and that we have what we need for the journey.”


	32. Campfire on a Trail, Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and River meet up with the people they'll be traveling into former Randaynian territory with, Ash sees an old friend - another outsider Druid.

**Ash**

River and I were greeted well when we rode up to the small group that would apparently be going on the mission with us. Eight Guardsmen, a diplomat named Lucas, the elected governor – an idealistic young man who was himself, a naturalized Arcadian. He’d been elected by the refugees as a governor for their former homeland, which was being added as the fifth province of Arcadia. We were also going to be swapping out the troops for a fresh squad when we arrived – hopefully River would be allowed to see Beck. And to my great surprise and joy, I recognized the Faith Druid we’d been sent with.

“Oh Gaia, Violet, good to see you again.”

“Good to see that icy visage of yours too, Ash. How is the Saint of Steel? I was glad to hear it was going to be you and your Apprentice – you might not be the friendliest, but I know you’re not going to be a headache that makes Gaians look like a bunch of uptight assholes, either. Though,” she said, with a slight grin, “I hear you’re nicer than everyone says.”

River chuckled. I glared at her, though I was reflecting on the nickname she’d called me. Saint of Steel. I didn’t like it much – felt too grandiose for me, like I was claiming to be a paragon of some kind – but for all that it was less honest, I had to admit it rang better in my ears than “Cinder of War.”

“Yeah, that’s the rumor.” However flustered I was, it was good to see Violet again – she was an excellent paragon of what a Faith Druid was meant to be: well versed in medicine, woodcraft, the holy books, and the arts of caring for, and nurturing, living things. She’d made Mentor rank a few years ago, and I knew she’d managed to train up at least one Apprentice, though at the moment she seemed to be alone. I also knew, from the last time our paths had crossed, that the pale thirty something with the dark eyes and the dirty blonde hair had a gift for setting people at ease, even when they were hurt or scared.

She turned to River. “So, you keeping your mentor on his toes with swordplay lessons, or he still the undisputed best blade?”

“Still undisputed, but having to work to stay that way.” River’s voice had a joking tone, and I was already groaning a little. Violet and I had been friends – sometimes traded letters, on and off, and generally if I was working with a Faith Druid I hoped it was her. She had a habit of treating me like a person instead of just a sword attached to an arm that could swing it - which was simultaneously annoying and endearing. Still, my longtime habit of keeping others at arm’s length was something I had to overcome eventually, and a few months’ travel with one of the nicer Faith Druids I’d ever met was going to make that easier. Violet was also less orthodox than most Druids in any Circle – she enjoyed traveling to tribal lands and learning their spiritual practices, which, despite said practices being acknowledged as legitimate sectarian differences by the Faith, was still an uncommon level of acceptance for a Druid to have. Violet was considered somewhat unorthodox, even if she considered me entirely too lacking in personality to enjoy as a friend, there was a certain kinship between us.

Though our initial meeting had been a shitshow.

The Guardsmen around us were looking at us jealously – I couldn’t blame them. I had felt the same way when I had been military – it wasn’t fun having to march instead of ride. You got to be closer to the ground, but it was more tiring, you couldn’t feel the wind in your hair as you moved – that, and they were all wearing issue helmets, which looked to be pre-Calamity construction hats, painted in Arcadian colors.

The diplomat was a face I didn’t know, but they wore the sigil of the Stewardship of Foreign Affairs, but he seemed jovial enough from the way he was chatting with the Guard and the Governor. “The Inquisitorial delegation has arrived? Excellent. I take it we can head out?”

I nodded, as did the sergeant who seemed to be leading the crack squad of Guardsmen, and we began the long march to Randaynia.

The road was long, but Quincy trotted easily enough under the saddle. The Guardsmen’s march was methodical and reasonably fast – I was actually impressed by the pace they kept. The group was highly disciplined, but they did have an endpoint – about forty miles of marching later, they all but collapsed when the diplomat was called to a halt. River and I volunteered to go forage with Violet and see what we could find in the way of fresh vegetables or meat.

We were given leave to go do so, and Violet and River talked about the differing Circles’ training methods. River, after a certain point, asked Violet a question that she’d asked me a few times, but that I hadn’t heard the answer to.

“So, Violet, do you know what they’ll be renaming – oooh, blackberries – Randaynia after it becomes a formal part of Arcadia?”

“I’ve heard a rumor that it was going to be called the Borderlands, but those people lost out – didn’t want its name to come off as aggressive, which is probably important given that it’ll be under military jurisdiction for the next few months. The current rumor is that it’s going to be called the Reclamation.” I couldn’t help but feel that that was a perfect name for a province seized from tyrants like those who’d owned Randaynia and given back to the people who’d lived and worked there, with the intent to restore the land and the rights of those within it.

**River**

Ash’s favorite contact in the Circle of Faith was a blast! She had an amazing personality, a decent sense of humor, was open minded enough to learn about as many different approaches to her faith as she could – in fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have said you couldn’t find two more disparate personalities, but I knew enough of Ash to know about the compassion beneath the ice – and from his very obvious respect for Violet I had a hunch that beneath the smile and the laugh and the jokes, she was absolutely dedicated to her faith and to the ideals it preached.

“So, how do you two know each other?”

I could see Ash wince and Violet said, “Oh, well. Uh. I’d just made Adept when he was getting promoted to Journeyer, and I was one of the Faith Druids that was supposed to witness his Trial of Communion.” I sat up at that.

The Trials were a series of tests that one performed for each rank in a Druidic Circle. I’d already been through one round, in order to move from Initiate to Apprentice. They did vary somewhat between Circles; the Faith Circle, for example, had to test for the ability to teach doctrine, as well as the ability to understand it, and unlike the Inquisition had no Trial of Martial Skill at all. Violet, as a newly-promoted Adept, being invited to sit in on a Trial for someone like Ash indicated a truly deep understanding of the Gaian religion. A Trial of Communion was no small thing, either. Restoration of wilderness land under the eyes of both Engineering Stewards and Faith Druids, and then serious academic study of both ecology and theology, with an advanced thesis on both - how advanced depended on if you were looking at a Journeyer, Adept, or Mentor rank, but regardless you’d be examined and questioned by Adepts to determine you knew what you were talking about. 

“Why’s he…”

“Because she tripped me up with a few questions and hit me with a perspective I hadn’t accounted for, which damn near set my promotion to Journeyer back by a year, though I managed to pull it out. Also because when she started dabbling in cross-sectarian education with some Initiates, a few of the more orthodox members of her Circle decided they wanted the Inquisition to take a look at her. Archdruid Oakheart knew it was a political shitshow, but she wanted an excuse to discredit the Ultraorthodox movement in her own ranks because they were close-minded and discriminatory against other sects in a way that actually did border on the heretical, and she told Belladonna that she wanted someone thorough. Belladonna knew full well it would be a snipe hunt, and sent me to figure it out.”

Poisoned Sky, what part of Ash’s life wasn’t defined by what I was increasingly coming to know as the thoroughly scorched-up internal politics of the Druidic circles? Violet was already speaking again.

“Oh, quit bellyaching, Ash. You got a commendation for it, right?”

“I did. Oakheart was quite satisfied with what I turned up.”

Violet gave an evil chuckle. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Bet that helped Belladonna’s mood.”

Violet glanced at me, then at Ash. “She know?”

Ash paused, then wobbled his bad hand in a “so-so” gesture. I wondered what that meant. Didn’t I know the whole story?

A few of the soldiers, and the diplomat, a guy named Lucas, came over. “So, what do you guys think? About the Reclamation?”

“I think it’s still a better name than Arboria.”

Ash looked hurt when Violet derisively referred to his home province. The core of Arcadia, named for its massive forests. “You’re from Frostreach, you do NOT get to talk.”

“Sure I do. Frostreach might have a ridiculous name that sounds like it came from a cheap old-world fantasy novel, but you know what your home province’s name means, Ash? It means “trees.” Just. “Trees.” Because the founding Steward-General had a fetish for dead languages and the imagination of a brick.”

I decided not to join in. Bay Hills was part of Sierra Vale, which was, in my opinion, the least terribly named Arcadian province, but I was certain that that view would not be welcomed. I think we could all agree it still beat Watchlands, which had been, until this, the most eastern part of Arcadia, at the western edge of the Rockies. Though I was certain that Vera would object to me mocking Watchlands since she lived in Crests, the provincial capitol. Then she’d point out that Sandscar had it worse, but it wasn’t a province - the area that had spread outward of Death Valley was empty of human life because it was now totally uninhabitable. Aside from Arcadian spec ops known as Condors running drills there, and the occasional Delver caravan passing through it, it didn’t count. 

Violet gave me a knowing look. It was a wonderful smile, indicating that she understood what I was thinking, but wasn’t going to share without asking. A few of the soldiers joked around about Ash and Violet, though I got to playing cards with them. My mom had taught me how, ages ago, not long after I first came to Arcadia. I swapped stories with them – war stories, of fighting Nihilons and slavers, then love stories – when they talked about their partners back home or unlikely adventures, I couldn’t help but mention with a smirk that I had seen some good times as well.

Lucas was talking with Ash about something, but I really thought that if this was going to be what the journey was like, I was sure I could handle it.


	33. Bad Memories, part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash's bad experiences at war are delved into, and he deals with flashbacks with help from Violet and River

**Ash**

The long road east had been pleasant, the wind in my hair, trying to come out of my shell and chatting with the soldiers, swapping my war stories with theirs – but never talking about the actual kills, ambushes, or the things we’d seen. Lucas was friendly enough as well, and I had as much fun as I was capable of having when I was walking with Violet and talking smack.

“Damn, your apprentice has done a number on you. You actually talk and make jokes these days.”

River’s laugh was not kind. Her words were. “I think that’s mostly the fact that Ash’s been alone for years. He warmed to me quickly enough.”

Violet’s laugh was pleasant, though her eyes were sharp when she looked at me. “River,” she said, with a tone that indicated it wasn’t a request, “I have things to talk to your Mentor about that relate to things he may not be ready to discuss with you.”

I blinked. “River. Stay within sight. I know we’ll be reaching places where bad memories crop up for both of us soon.” I gave her a quiet signal that we’d worked out a ways back that more or less meant “I’ll explain later.” She nodded and gently nudged Daisy to move forward while I looked at Violet. “First, don’t ever presume to command my Apprentice without asking me first. Second, what is it that you have to talk to me about?”

“I just wanted to say. I think having an Apprentice was good for you. You were a little unfinished before – and don’t feel bad. I was too. Having someone you’re responsible for – I know you take part in training Initiates, but it’s a different feeling, being responsible for someone entirely.” I couldn’t deny that. I had been much more careful about myself while I was teaching River – knew she’d struggle to find another Mentor – though from what I’d seen she was actually fairly popular with other Apprentices and initiates. At least she got along well enough with Apprentice Reed, even though I was certain his Mentor and I were going to cross swords at some point in the next five years and one of us wasn’t going to survive it. “And what else?”

“She’s the one from Randaynia herself, right? And I was in Crests – I know that there’s at least one person involved in the Caretaker Stewardship who doesn’t want to deal with her again for some time. Nothing River did but a lot of trauma.” Only my incredible skill and practice at dissembling allowed me to hide my reaction to that – I’d hoped that would stay buried for some time, but Violet was still talking. Typical of a Faith Druid, she tended to keep chatting instead of waiting to see what someone would give away. “Don’t worry. She mentioned it to me, and it was only the two of us in the room. I can’t imagine what would have happened if another Inquisitor heard of it, though. Belladonna’s a snake and that kind of potential shift in public opinion looks bad for the Inquisition’s current hierarchy – to say nothing of Oakheart’s shift away from strict orthodoxy in the Faith Circle. I don’t doubt that anyone else would become attached to her if they got assigned to her – but I think only you would be capable of protecting her if Belladonna goes as far as I think she might.”

I shrugged. “I hope I’m still able to. I’ve been slowing down – not as fast or as deadly as I used to be.”

“Ah.” She shrugged. “Do me a favor, Ash. If at all possible, be there for the Harvest Arms Tournament. It wouldn’t hurt to get the word out that you’re as deadly as ever. Might deter anyone she hires. But I have other questions. Or, one really. Are you two sure you can be here again? She was branded like an animal, sterilized, and subject to so many other atrocities. You lost your fingers, some of your mobility, and have a number of wounds that still pain you. And that’s not counting the friends you lost here. Or the things that haunt you even if you weren’t on the sharp end of the bolts or blades involved.”

It was true – we were, at a guess, less than a day from the hill where I’d taken my wounds when we were getting pushed back. And our route took us through the town my unit had been destroying when we’d rescued River and her brother. “I’ll be fine. There are bad memories here, but I have a duty to my apprentice.” I ran my bad hand through my hair, feeling the hair brush the stumps. “Though as long as we don’t get too close to…”

“The rail junction, right?”

I nodded, trying to keep any expression from my face. Violet paused. “I never heard the full story of what happened there.”

I shook my head, those memories a little too real, even now. “And never will, at least, not from me.”

She nodded. “If you say so, Ash.”

I shuddered again. “I know the Stewardship of Engineering tore the buildings they used as slave training or trading hubs down and recycled the material, and I know someone else is probably living in the home that River and her brother were enslaved in – for that matter, pretty sure the one they grew up in, as well, though I have no idea if that one’s still standing. She was unclear about how her biological parents died.”

Violet shrugged. “I suspect we’ll know tomorrow how much help you’ll both need.”

***

Her prediction was proven entirely too correct for my liking when we wound up swinging wide around the hill where my unit had been dug in when it was our turn to play rearguard against the mad onslaught of the enemy’s coordinated counterattack. I felt sick looking at it. My left ring finger and pinkie itched in a way they hadn’t since a few weeks after they’d been hacked off just above the knuckles. For a second, I could have sworn there were still bits of the bolts we’d been firing sticking out of the ground, like there was still battle detritus from a fight that had been eleven years ago. There were bits of something white over there, and I wondered for a moment if they were bones. I didn’t realize that I was gripping Quincy’s reins and my saber hilt so hard that I was cutting off circulation in my hand until River shouted. “Ash! Ash, focus!”

I shook myself and looked again. The white specks were pretty clearly just rocks, and the bolt fragments were just little shoots of brush sticking up. I took a breath. “Sorry. Just…” I reached to scratch at my lost fingers before remembering again that they were over a decade gone. “Bad flashbacks.”

River glanced at me. “This is…”

“They call it the Battle of the Sternguard in the history books. They also make it sound so...orderly. How the 4th Arborian and the 7th Frostreach held when all the other units broke, until the 2nd Sierra rallied and let us force them to withdraw...All of which is true, technically but it really doesn’t give a feel for the fight. The refugees were pulling out but the bosses had put together the full force of their mercenary armies and were hitting us in concentration with everything they had, plus thousands of conscripts. I was in the company that held the top of that hill, and one of the first to leave the crest to charge into their flank when we ran out of bolts. I lost my fingers on that hill – and it’s where I got the pelvic wound that left me with the limp.”

River was quiet, waiting for me to continue. “And I lost my best friend in the military here. He caught a mercenary’s bullet in the head. We were just trying to laugh off the fight when we’d repulsed a wave charge. I’ll never forget it. We were just chuckling at how over the top some of the Frostreach troops’ battlecries were and then he looked over the rim of our trench and caught the round. Got the gore all over my helmet, armor, and the bolt I was trying to load. I assumed it was someone else’s blood, when I first looked – thought there was no way. He didn’t fall. Just kinda slumped at the edge of the trench. I looked over while I was getting my own bolt off and screamed for a medic. Saw him then. His helmet was wrecked, and he was still smiling, just that half the smile was gone. Bullet ripped it out of his face.” River looked horrified, and I glowered.

“It’s a common reaction. Imagine if someone you knew was with you one moment, laughing because you’d just had a close call and the next minute you’re showered in gore and their quiet.” River shook her head. “No. It’s not like that it’s...When my family got wiped, I remember Beck and I seeing Lily die and having the same reaction. Just couldn’t believe it.” I reached out and clapped my hand on her shoulder.

“Gaia, River, I’m sorry.” Violet was watching us, approvingly. I could tell what she was taking in. Instead of saying anything, she simply offered me a flask. “Hey. If either of you two need help, please talk to me. I want to help.” Lucas was still with the Guard – lucky bastards. They hadn’t served here – though I’d gotten stories from them. They’d seen action against the Nihilon assault that had happened after the Crusade, when most of the rest of the Guard were still licking our wounds and a big band had crossed the Sandscar looking for some easy pillage. Their scars were elsewhere. Still, some of them had overheard my conversation with River and were looking at me with the mix of fear, respect and pity I was sick of seeing when people heard about any part of my war experience. They tended to look at Crusade veterans like that.

**River**

Lucas came riding over to us after Ash’s flinch, and had checked on him. “Inquisitor, are you alright?”

“As alright as I’ll be. Just a flashback.” Lucas glanced into Ash’s eyes, and nodded.

“You know. There are a lot of people in the Stewardship who know what you were sent through. I want to apologize – we should have done a better job taking care of all of you in the aftermath.”

Something ugly flashed in Ash’s eyes and I had to force myself not to take a step back, but Lucas, the slender, gentle-eyed man who probably hadn’t seen the anger and would almost certainly die if Ash acted on it, didn’t even blink. Lucas spoke calmly. “One of the things that will come of this area being consolidated is an increase in resources. It’s my intent to put some of those towards treating veterans for the damage war has done to you.”

“What do you know about it?” That didn’t sound like Ash, but I realized that here, where so many of the hurts had happened, Ash was struggling to keep control of his emotions like normal.

“Personally? Very little. But I had a brother and a cousin who marched to war. Only one of them came back, and he came back shaking and screaming in the night. I mean it when I say I want to help any way I can. My brother died on that hill, over there.”

Ash didn’t flinch. “Yeah. Lot of people did. Thank you for your kindness.” And just like that he was back to having his emotions buried, even if I could still see him shaking a little. Violet shook her head, and murmured something. Glancing at her, I asked what it was.

“Your Mentor is going to destroy himself. He needs someone he can talk to without his sense of needing to take care of them getting in the way. You’ve been amazing for him, I can tell. And...I know you have trauma here too, so if you wind up having any of your triggers hit, please talk to me. I’ll help you.” I was grateful, but there was a part of me that distrusted that gentle tone, and that sweet voice. It was how my old mistress had talked to Beck and I – gentle, trying to gain trust, until she made it perfectly clear how little she cared what we thought of anything. I knew it wasn’t the same as what Violet was doing, but being this close to where I was born…

It wasn’t doing any favors for my own ability to deal with memories either.

When we made camp that night, after we fed and watered the horses, we meditated, and it seemed like Ash’s nerves were finally calming down a little bit, though I noticed he had placed his sword out of easy reach of his sleeping bag - a far cry from his usual habit of keeping his weapon close. I was feeling more relaxed, and went to go look at the lyrics and sheet music I’d copied down when I’d been in the Archives before we’d left, and was trying to decide what to go with, while Ash spoke quietly with Violet about whatever it was they needed to discuss.

When I bedded down, though, I noticed that Ash was shaking in his sleep, and murmuring a name, muttering for a medic. He was as tense as I’d ever seen him, and he snarled when I poked him, his chest heaving in deep, heavy breaths. “What are you poking me for, idiot? I’m not the one wounded.” He was stuck in a flashback, and I shook my head. 

“No, stop, it’s me, River. The war’s over, Ash. You’re safe.” His eyes cleared, still breathing hard, and he held up his left hand, still shaking, before his eyes, recognizing the lost fingers as proof of the passage of time, and said, “Right, must be.”

Violet came in and looked over him, murmuring a little prayer under her breath. “Alright, Ash. I can brew you up some tea that’ll help keep you from dreaming. But when you move on Belladonna, I want to be there. I can’t believe she did this to you two.”

Ash nodded, sadly, and I wondered if I was going to do any better if we passed by the places where my trauma had happened. I looked at Ash, and gave him a look of as much respect as I could muster, since no matter how well I knew, intellectually, that he had been doing his job as a soldier, he had been the one to personally kill my owners and rescue me. 

“Ash? We’ll get through this. If you’re feeling guilty or sick or like it was all for nothing, please just remember,” I put a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Whatever you did. That’s the reason I’m here now.”

Ash shrugged, and nodded. When he gulped down the tea that Violet offered, he shrugged. “Hey. You did well today. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here. And I’d have died at least once in the last year without you. We’ll manage - I’ll get the recipe for this stuff from Violet tomorrow, in case you need some later.”

I started lying down and thought, having seen the map the Guardsmen had been flashing around earlier today, that before the journey was over I was going to have cause to be glad my Mentor thought ahead like that.


	34. Bad Memories, part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River's turn to confront ghosts from the past

**River**

The approach back to the town where I’d lived before the Crusade was frightening. I knew that just up the road, not even twenty miles, was the house where I’d spent my early childhood, and I knew that would come with a whole different set of traumas to come close to, now knowing what I did. Ash’s icy countenance brought me some relief – he’d fought here, but this was a place where he was at peace with what he’d done, and he gave me a small nod, as Violet rode up on my other side. Tacitly giving me permission to be vulnerable as I needed to be, especially as the Guard spread out and checked the town for enemies – it wasn’t clear how many people present had been living here after the Crusade ended and before the official annexation – and how many would resent our presence.

Still hadn’t been prepared to see the doors of the house I’d been brought into after purchase. Just looking at those doors - chipped though they were, walls as dented and pockmarked with the telltale holes left behind by the removal of Arcadian bolts - all of it came rushing back.

I felt something tighten around my neck, the cobblestones beneath my feet, and felt the brand on the back of my neck sear brightly. I was panting, desperately trying to pull away and I heard Ash’s voice, like ice, cut through the panic. “Violet, don’t touch! River, you’re here with us. It’s been twelve years.” I felt a tug, and reached for something - my hand grabbed the hilt of my sword and I heard someone curse as I flicked it out, only to hear the ring of metal striking metal, and oddly it was the feeling of the clash reverberating up my arms that made me come back to myself - I’d never had that feeling back then. I saw Ash, the end of my katana caught on the flat of his saber, his weapon in one of the eight basic parries. Violet looked shocked, and she’d been reeling back, clearly taken aback by the sudden violence. 

“River.” Ash looked at the house and for an instant I saw something dark and furious in his eyes. “You’re safe. Those days are dead. The people who put you through them are also dead.”

I shuddered, taking a breath. “Right. Right. How did you do that again? Might help me calm down to remember.” That sounded like a lie, even now, but it would reassure me - I remembered being dragged through the streets like an animal after purchase with Beck begging them not to hurt me when I’d acted up. I wanted to remember.

“I split your master’s skull with a standard cleave, laid his son’s throat open to the bone and rammed my saber between your mistresses’ breasts into her heart when she tried to seduce me into sparing her.” That’s right. Cara had tried to seduce her way out of death - knowing what I now knew of what she’d done to my brother the image that she’d try to get out of death by seducing Ash of all people suddenly became absolutely, viciously funny to me. 

Violet spoke then. “River. I take it this was….”

“Where I lived as a slave, yes. Where I saw Ash for the first time, as well. Where my brother and I were sterilized. Like animals. Well, actually. I guess that would have been in the town where I was born - the one twenty miles up the road. Bigger city, you know.” Violet’s lips turned up in disgust.

“People who knew you your whole life…” She turned towards Ash. “I rescind any and all criticism of anything and everything you did on the battlefield. Sweetheart, are you…”

“DON’T CALL ME SWEETHEART!” It ripped from my throat. “It’s what they called me when they were trying to get me to trust them. Get me to believe that things were going to be fine if I just listened, acted like a good girl, a good pet. My parents - the real ones - had to make a habit of using other endearments.” I could still hear Logan’s calm smugness after my attempts to assert boundaries had been smacked down, the soft manipulation in Cara’s words when she stroked my hair when I did what I was told.

I made myself picture how they’d looked when Ash’s swordplay was done. 

I liked those images better.

Violet nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. River. Are you okay?” 

I wondered that myself. The brand on my back still ached, which it hadn’t for years - it had settled into a now mostly-faded scar. “I’ll be….” I thought about what had happened to Beck, to me, to Van, the fact that now, even though I’d always wanted to be a mom someday, I’d never…

No. I could do what my parents had done. Honestly I was increasingly sure that that itself would be a bad idea, but I was still angry that the choice had been taken from me at twelve. “Anyone living here?”

Violet shrugged. “Do...you need to take a look around inside?”

I thought about it. I shouldn’t. I was really certain I shouldn’t. But I wanted to see how it looked. I wanted to see if someone had done something better with it.

Ash looked nervous. “River, are you…”

“No. I don’t need to see it. I don’t need to open those scars up.” I rubbed my neck where the collar had worn in the scars. “Scorch this place. I know someone’s going to rebuild it and live in it eventually. But I want to burn the fucker to the ground.”

Ash nodded. “Yeah. Sadly someone else will wind up living here. Thought you might be interested to know - any and all restraints they had in the place were looted, melted down and the metal used for something you can approve of.”

“Oh?” The curiosity got the better of me. “What’s that?”

“Most of their restraints and collars were made of decent steel - some of it military quality. A lot of refugees turned Guardsmen wound up armed with blades made from their old chains. The First and Second Phoenix, now redubbed “Reclamation” now that that’s the designation for their province, were the ones that got issued them. Now, I strongly doubt they bothered matching up blades with former slaves, but your brother at least is in one of the units who got those weapons.” 

I chuckled. That thought would certainly make Beck happy. Walking away from the building, I looked at Violet. “Sorry for uh...almost disembowling you.”

“It’s...okay. Ash stopped you and I can’t say I’d react differently if I was both dealing with that trauma and a trained swordswoman. River, are you going to be…” I glanced at someone approaching us, someone speaking in the rough tones of Randaynia - someone I recognized as the man who we were escorting.

“I’ll be fine.” Steward-Governor Greene walked over. He was rather unique among the refugees, I remembered. He’d originally been from an upper-crust family pushing for abolition and humanitarian law in Randaynia - one who’d tended to buy, manumit and immediately smuggle people across the border - the way my family should have with Vera. While I hadn’t been sure about his candidacy when I’d been asked to vote, I couldn’t help but be swayed by his argument and by what I’d heard of him since. That, and the fact that he’d been among the class permitted proper education here meant that he knew what resources were available in these lands. 

“River Damien, right?” his voice was friendly. 

“River Pamela. The Damiens are dead, and I’ve learned enough about them to be okay with that. But yes, that did used to be my name.”

He gave a genuine bow. “I’m glad to see the only refugee Inquisitor here. I haven’t had a chance to interact with most of the travel group, but...It is an honor.”

“Thank you.” I took the offered hand and shook it. “What’s been keeping you busy?”

“Examining and re-examining reports, trying to review plans for what to do, make any last-second changes. Is this…?”

“Yes.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why?”

“Because it should never have happened. Because the duty of those with power is to protect those without - and the society I used to be quite far up in failed that. Spectacularly.”

I felt a flash of rage. “Stow the self-flagellation shit. You’re a Steward-Governor now. You don’t have time, or right, to be feeling anything as useless as guilt.” I felt Ash’s words pouring out of me, and as usual, I realized I hadn’t seen the wisdom of his advice til I was on the other side of it. “You have a job to do. You have more power now, and no one to obstruct your efforts to help those in need. Do it right this time. I didn’t vote for you to get to atone.” 

Without looking I could feel Ash smiling at me. 

Maybe I was getting better at this. I started walking away, and I could see the Steward-Governor taken aback at my words, but I saw him nod, reflectively. Ash walked after me, and Violet was laughing a bit. “She’s right, Governor. You have a job to do. I’m going to go consecrate some of the area, a little. Reflect on what the Inquisitor just said.” I’d learned, the ugly way, how to tell someone’s identity from their footfalls. I heard Violet walk away, and I felt a warm glow as Ash caught up with me, his uneven steps from his limp taxing him even as he fell into pace beside me. 

“I’m proud of you. That was a good spiel to hit him with.”

“You taught me well.” I paused. “If you want to put the hand on my shoulder, you’re welcome to right now.” A beat pause and I did feel the three fingers of Ash’s left hand give a gentle bit of support, and for a moment I felt like I was twelve, ushered out of that house, barefoot and being carried over rough stone and broken glass by the armed and armored Arcadian troops, but then I remembered where I was. No. River Damien was dead, I was River Pamela, and both Rivers knew perfectly well that Ash was not going to hurt me - even then. 

I turned down the tea Violet had made for us - I didn’t think I’d need it.

**Ash**

I kept a quiet vigil over my apprentice that night. I’d been so proud of her today. Facing her old demons, staring down the governor, facing the past. I leaned back, reflecting on how far she’d come since we started. I wanted to do something for her, but just as I’d had to face the ghosts of the battlefield with only kind words and encouragement, she’d have to face her memories without anything more than that from me. I’d heard her swearing, “Just ask you fuckers! I’m not a horse! Get away!”

I sat down next to her, as she started whimpering in her sleep, and threw my jacket over her. “River. River, you’re fine. Come on.” She made a grab at me and I batted down my instinct to grab the wrist and twist - grabbing me normally was a mistake, but right now it would only going to upset her. She flailed for a moment and swore at Logan, at Cara, and I found myself entirely too satisfied with being the one who killed them. “River, you’re alright. I’m here. Soon we’ll probably be seeing your brother again. You’re okay. Breathe.” Her eyes opened, and she saw me.

“I was an idiot for not taking the tea, wasn’t I?” 

“No more an idiot than I’ve been for many years, not taking help when offered. Which is to say. Yes. Very much. I already put on a pot. Deep breaths. I’m here with you. Let’s meditate for a minute, clear our heads.” She shuddered and stood up, crossing over to the grass and sitting down. I watched as she took some deep breaths and steadied herself. Violet came over, with the tea. 

She made the sign of the roots and knelt next to us as we meditated, clearly taking part in some of her own. “I would like to say, I think Belladonna made a mistake, putting you two together. If any combination of personalities and wills would doom her power, it’s you two. Let me know if I can do anything to help.” 

River spoke abruptly. “Violet. What kinds of things were you blessing, back there?”

“Where Arcadians fell. Graveyards, hoping to extend protection to any slave buried there.”

River gave a bitter laugh and stood up. “Unless you blessed the pet cemetery you wasted your breath. They didn’t bury us with people.” Violet nodded. 

“Follow me. Ash, if you want to come, I might as well show you where River and Beckett Damien would have been buried.”

I followed my apprentice as she led us around the corner from the inn we’d been lodged in. There was a small plot for people, but there was another, some distance outside of town, not far from where…

“Oh those miserable bastards.” “Just realized that they buried pets and slaves not too far from where they buried trash?” River’s voice was light. 

Violet sank to her knees and dug her hands into the soil and began murmuring blessings - last rites, chants of renewal, and the Litanies of Love and Regret...that one tore my heart a little. It was a prayer said at the funerals of lost children, or at the funerals of those who died because they didn’t get the help or kindness they needed. It felt good to hear it acknowledged, that those of them who hadn’t made it deserved to - that our time in the Crusade had come too late for many, and that we owed those who remained all the help we could give them. That our duty was to prevent this.

We headed back to camp, and I made sure River took in the tea before resuming my vigil over my sleeping apprentice.


	35. Postwar Beckett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River sees what war has done to her brother, the diplomatic party gets ready to head to the Bayou

**Ash**

The ride to the Reclamation’s provincial capitol was a bit grim. I had been part of the final assault on the place back when I was in the Guard, and we’d taken lots of casualties, even if they had run out of ammunition first. We hadn’t exactly shown a lot of restraint once we’d broken through, either. _That had to be paint, right? Or rust? There was no way that the blood splatter from the battle was still on that wall? Deep breaths, Ash. River’s here and she’s going to see her brother. You having a panic attack here is not going to help anything. Not even you._ I forced my panic down, and stared at the spot. There wasn’t even red there. I was imagining it. I remembered what it had been like, that brutal street-to-street fighting with brutal bouts of sword and knife work between the firefights. 

We’d passed the foundations of a few slave trading hubs, torn down after the war and the building materials taken for other structures, the foundation being used for a massive tent-top anchor, under which farmers markets could spring up – though right now it was being used for a makeshift workshop by a few potters, blacksmiths, and...was that a loom? Ah, the joys of the Arcadian economy. It looked much better than it had last time I was here. Then again, the last time I’d seen the no-longer-existent building, it had been full of slavers – and an Oligarch – strung up by the chains they used and bleeding to death like pigs in an old world slaughterhouse because we thought it would be funny. 

For the record, knowing better than I did then what they did to people? I started chuckling at the memory.

Quincy plodded on beneath me, and I glanced over at Steward-Governor Greene. He looked around and gave a vague smile when he looked at the banner of Arcadia fluttering over the building we were told to bring him to. The original mayoral house of the town actually did work for a capitol building, which meant the architecture could be taken care of more easily. 

I caught River staring at one of the benches as we rode past, and I coughed. “River, what’s…”

“The benches used to be structured differently. Solid metal armrests. Lot of ledges under buildings used to have spikes on them, keep the homeless from sleeping there – well, you know. The ones who tried to run away. Made it so they’d have nowhere to go but back. The spikes are gone, and so are the armrests. I know with Arcadians moving in there aren’t going to be any escaped slaves, and not a lot of homeless, probably, but the mere fact that all of that Is gone...it says something that among the first things you break down when you move in are things like that. It’s...comforting.”

I shrugged. “I suppose it would be. Are you ready to see your brother?”

“I am. I think things will be okay.” Governor Greene dismounted not far from the front of the capitol building, with the soldiers around us saluting and being dismissed by him. Another unit – wearing the colors of the Second Reclamation Regiment, came forward and took up guard positions around the visiting governor. Greene gave the rest of the travelling party a salute.

“Thank you. Tell them, back home, that the Reclamation is in good hands. It was an honor to travel with all of you. And Apprentice Druid River? Good luck, and may Gaia’s blessing go with you. You being where you are means a lot to all of us who came from old Randaynia.” 

I saw River blush and look away, but I saw Violet nudge her own horse alongside her and smile. “He’s right you know. You being in the Inquisition is a big statement on the part of the Druidic Circles – someone born in the sin of Randaynia can be good enough to be part of Gaia’s Inquisition, trying to root out the wrongs she was raised with for the good of all…”

I smiled. “She’s also capable. If anyone has earned the right to be trained as an Inquisitor, it’s her. She’s an extremely capable student, and her instincts are solid. Now, where is….” My eyes caught sight of a squad of soldiers coming around the corner. Their body armor was dented and scored, in ways that indicated they’d been in some fairly vicious melee combat relatively recently – doubtless during the annexation. One of them, I recognized. 

Beckett Pamela had the same short cropped hair and tall, muscular build that I’d seen him with last, but now bore a few scars along his off arm – and his eyes had the same hollow, haunted look I recognized from mine, in the months after the Crusade. I winced. I knew without having to ask that he’d lost people – and probably done some things he knew were wrong because he was angry and frightened and justifiably vengeful.

I nudged River and pointed it out, and we dismounted. My hip really let me down this time, when my right food touched the ground, my hip suddenly cramped and I fell heavily to my side. I forced myself to my feet as quickly as I could, giving a panicked glance around, praying no one had seen that. Violet had, and for a brief moment I felt a surge of bitter hatred. I didn’t want her, or anyone else, seeing me collapse. She looked at me and shook her head, tapping her lips.

At least she wouldn’t tell anyone. River was busy moving towards her brother, hadn’t really noticed. I hoped for her sake that he was up to talking to his little sister.

**River**

I moved over towards Beckett and I caught his eye – oh, Gaia. He looked haunted, sick, even. The way Ash had when we’d been near the hill.

What had happened to him?

“Beck, I’m here. How…”

“How were things?” His voice was mostly that of the Beckett I knew, but it had a hard, vicious edge under it. “Been wonderful. I’ve been living the dream I lived so often back when we were slaves – come here, and kill the bastards that signed off on all that. The mercenaries who arrested us? Slaughtered. The ex-slavers among them who were snapping up the people living in this vicious shithole and looking to make a profit ransoming them? Got to take a blade to a few of them as well. Lost people doing it.” A laugh, laced with rage and fear, followed. 

“Gaia, I thought it would be sweet. But everyone who fucked with us is gone. Oh, and do you know, I saw some people we knew from back then while I was here? When we were kids, I mean, before we found out what our parents were like to Vera. Her last letter said she told you, right? Heh, yeah. Saw that one of my old friends from childhood had taken up arms against us. He thought, after everything the bosses and the mercs put us through, that I’d be showing him mercy when we went through the town he was living in these days. I suspect he figured out why it was a bad idea to trust that enough to leave cover when my bolt caught him in the chest. Made the mistake of calling me Damien, you know.”

“Which one?”

“Remember the Harrisons? Their middle son, Bill. Stupid bastard. Can’t believe I was ever friends with someone who would really defend this shit.” I forced myself not to take a step back at that. I had fond memories of the youngest Harrison. I didn’t bother asking what happened to Ollie, though. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. 

“So, Beckett. When did you know about..?” This was wrong, but I wanted to know. I wanted to know…

“Oh, not long after I enlisted, actually. Ran into Vera, when the platoon did some mountain terrain exercises near Crests. We’ve been writing letters for a while. I suppose she told you about Cara and what…”

Ash had caught up, and Beck’s face split into a perverse grin. “What she did to me? Anyway. You could say that this has been one hell of a mixed bag, emotionally.” He started chuckling that same, vindictive little laugh, and then suddenly broke off into a sob, and I didn’t know what to do. I moved forward, and on instinct, instead of hugging any other part of him, I ran my fingers over his hair the way Mom – our real mom – had done when we first got to Arcadia. He tensed, then relaxed a little.

“Scorch me, River. Jaime’s dead. The guy you saw last time, the one who told you that any family of mine was as good as his? He went down in front of me. Took a hatchet to the back, sunk to the eye in his spine before the guy ripped it out and split his head. I saw the blow coming, didn’t get there fast enough to help him. We were shieldmates, damnit. I was supposed to watch his back, and instead he got butchered.” I hugged Beck then, and he held me close. I could feel Ash’s eyes watching us, and I realized then that the other soldiers who’d seen me approach had split off when Beck and I started talking. 

Like they knew Beck wouldn’t want them to see him like this. Like how I sometimes looked away when Ash indicated he was about to have a problem. Because it was important to people like this that no one see what they were dealing with.

Fine. I’d do for my brother what I did for my Mentor, sometimes. Or what Violet did for him. Look straight at it. “Beck. Look at me. I’m here. I hear a rumor you’ll be with us. There’s a Faith Druid with us who knows about this kind of thing, talked to me when I saw our old owners’ house. Ash too. He was in the Crusade, he knows what you’re going through. And I’m here, and I’ll stay close.”

“Your mentor never breaks down like this. What kind of soldier…”

“He does, actually.” Ash’s voice, clipped and precise, came from behind me.

**Ash**

I didn’t want to imagine what Beck had been through coming through battlefields where he’d been brutalized before, and could only imagine the kind of destruction the vengeful Reclamation regiments had wrought here. I couldn’t blame them – we’d cut loose enough and we hadn’t had any personal vendettas. 

Still, at his words about his old friend I had to conceal a wince of sympathy. I knew what it was to cut down a friend who crossed a line. Eckhart’s last words, “A lie, invented to stop another Calamity...they’re using you, Ash.” flashed through my head again, as did the sickening slithering sound that came from a blade passing through a throat as it had when he went down. 

“I know what you’re going through – at least a part of it. It’s hard. There’s no shame in breaking down, when it happens. We’ll talk on the road. But...trust me, Beckett. I’d be alarmed if anyone could go through war without it screwing with their head a little.”


	36. To the Bayou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team arrives in the Bayou Confederacy and talks about various developments.

**River**

Governor Greene had been successfully installed, and the new force continued heading east. Now that Randaynia was fully annexed, Arcadia had a new neighbor on the eastern border – the Bayou Confederacy. Which was why the Stewardship of Foreign Affairs had sent Lucas. Beckett was still quiet by comparison to the way he’d usually been, before he’d been to war, though he wasn’t the wall of steely repression that Ash had been when we met. He sometimes shook in the night, and it was painful to watch my brother, the one I had thought of as my protector all those years, so utterly terrified and hurt. I kept checking in on him as we continued our journey. 

He now sported a few slight scars on his torso, which I saw when he changed his shirt – scars that would have come from flesh wounds inflicted by a blade, though one seemed to have come from a grazing bullet wound. We were sitting down, and Lucas and Violet were both trying to talk to Ash and Beck, who seemed to be quietly imbibing tea and chatting with the squad of Guardsmen accompanying us. Ash was talking quietly, and for a moment, I saw a grin flicker on his face. One of them was scowling a bit, but Beck was raising a cup. “To Arcadia! To victory and justice!”

Ash didn’t quite drink to that, but he smiled. I, on the other hand, downed the whole cup to that one. The people who’d caused so much harm were dead, Randaynia burned to the ground and rising from the smoking ashes was the Reclamation – a province I saw a lot of promise in. Beck was smiling a little as we drank together. “So, Riv, how’s Inquisition work going?”

“You wouldn’t believe. But it’s going well. How’s military life going, now that you’ve...I mean, all things considered…” I trailed off, sounding ridiculous to my own ears.

“Honestly? I actually kinda like it, overall. The war itself was bad, and the night terrors aren’t going away any time soon, but honestly, those aren’t anything new either. Had those since I was 17, right? What’s a few more? Like the discipline, the feeling of helping make things safe. Pay’s decent. Like arresting bandits, giving them a second shot, hell, even enjoyed fighting mercs when it was going our way.” 

Lucas spoke. “You know. My brother went to the first war, and he’s talked a little about it. Said there was no way to explain it to someone who hadn’t been there. What combat is like, I mean. If I’m not overstepping, could you try to describe it, a little?”

Beck shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Words seemed to fail him. I knew what battle, or at least, fighting a skirmish in a fast, loose group was like. From the look on Ash’s face, he wasn’t happy with the question, but he looked like he’d give it a shot.

“It’s like...everything becomes perfectly clear for a moment. Home, your other identity, everything else about you feels very far away, and you find yourself absolutely, totally in the moment the way you only can in life or death situations. You are aware of the soldiers fighting around you, everything fighting against you, the ring of blades, the thrumming of bowstrings...Once it’s over, it feels like a vivid dream or nightmare. It’s completely devoid of reason, but everything somehow makes sense, or at least, you’re not confused. Everything happens slow enough to remember, but too fast to ever really describe. Don’t know how else to say it.”

Beck laughed. “Yeah, that.” I hadn’t really had very different experiences, at least on my own end – the blood-pounding heartbeats, the roar in your ears, the narrowing of your entire world to that exact moment – and I knew the truth about Ash. However much he tried to hide it, however much people said he felt no emotion, when he fought, he was never more alive. Even if it wasn’t healthy, even if he hated it, it animated him like nothing else.

Lucas took that in. “I suppose that’s one of the issues. Hard to talk about with anyone who hasn’t been there.” 

The meal we were eating was composed of a brace of the jackrabbits that had gone wild in the region, skinned and roasted over fires – the hides had already been preserved and would be handed to cobblers in the next town, who would doubtless use them to make moccasins, and Violet was already hard at work reseeding the forage we’d found, to keep the ecosystem in balance. She spoke the Prayer of Renewal over the fire, and glanced around, trying to get the conversation going. “Oh, did you hear that the Engineering Stewardship found some old building blueprints and figured out how to build them in accordance with Gaian law? Fully solar powered, working as greenhouses, all that?”

That wasn’t anything new, but from the look on Lucas’s face was bright at the subject. “The massive ones, yes. I hear Arcadia may eventually have skyscrapers, powered by the sun and studded with gardens. Do you all realize what this means?”

I actually didn’t, but Ash grunted. “Someone probably thinks it means eventually getting to industrialize in a way that helps Gaia instead of hurting her. Hopefully they’re right, if not, I’ll probably have to have a word with them eventually. But if they’re right…”

“Medicine. The capacity to create full, old-world style medicine, long term, if we can start having hydroponic greenhouse farms. The kind of population movement and labor difference that would allow…”

Ash didn’t look so optimistic, and for a moment I couldn’t see why. Couldn’t this be a sign of good things to come? Medicine, easier health, the potential for so much good to be done if this worked. A turnaround of the human species to reclaim what we’d lost in the Calamity, and get to somewhere better for the vulnerable people, the disabled people who even now often teetered at high risk because we simply didn’t have the technology to mass produce the medicine they needed, and that was to say nothing of the population spike that would come with that, which in turn would allow so much more to develop. 

Ash nodded, grudgingly. “Yeah. Anyway, has anyone actually been to the Bayou Confederacy before? I actually haven’t been this far east.”

One of the Guardsmen and Violet both nodded. “Yeah. A lot of it is salt-swamp. The people there aren’t really much of a government – they’re more a loose collection of small townships that have some trade and come to each others’ aid in a pinch, but you’d be hard-pressed to form a wider diplomatic alliance.”

Lucas shrugged. “I’m aware – the Stewardship’s intelligence on them indicated that much. But ultimately, they seem to exist in harmony with their environment more or less, and their traditions of hospitality are remarkably admirable. They’d be good neighbors for us, and since intelligence says they’re suspicious of outsiders, it seemed best to get a good word in for Arcadia, so they know we aren’t going to cause them any trouble.”

Violet shrugged. “They trade fair, but I don’t think you realize just how little diplomatic relations will ultimately mean to them if we’re anything other than perfectly behaved and give the impression of having a leader who can speak for all of us. They trust individuals or groups, but an entire nation is questionable – especially since we just conquered their former neighbor in a war of expansion – even if it was a shitty neighbor.”

The other man, who Beckett introduced as Private Link, nodded. “Right, little more. I was born there – got picked up during that flare of dengue fever that came out of the Caribbean a few years before the First Randayian Crusade. They won’t mind us coming armed, but if we draw for any reason, they will absolutely never trust us again. Oh, and get used to eating whatever they put in front of you. Food is a huge part of their hospitality. Bring gifts to them as well. Food, water, finely-made weapons, tools, that kind of thing. I take it the diplomat knew that, since he requisitioned a few extra Guard crossbows and a few racks of bolts, presumably to give to them. Good call – they rely on hunting for a lot of their food, so decent weapons with range will go a long way towards them trusting us.”

I hadn’t heard that – then again, I was closer to the Arcadian border than the Bayou one, even back before the Annexation. I’d had some of the Bayou’s sweet tea, but I’d never actually spent time with anyone from there. We chatted for a while longer before we doused the flame, and went to sleep. I stayed near Beck, making sure he got to sleep peacefully before crashing next to Ash, who I felt draping a blanket over me as well before I drifted off.

**Ash**

The news around the blueprints and the starting construction should have been enough to cheer me but I remembered a little too well the last time someone had found some old-world blueprints and tried to recreate old technology in “environmentally friendly” ways. I mean, I knew that the solar-powered foundries in the Sandscar provided the majority of our metal forging, but I also remembered the time someone had claimed they could make compost-based fuel that didn’t pollute when used to power vehicles, and that had been a disaster. They’d surrendered and willingly had it taken apart when it was realized they’d been too optimistic, but that didn’t change the fear of doing damage by moving too fast.

Still, the night’s chatter about the Bayou was interesting – I’d never been to the Bayou before, and I was looking forward to seeing it. I’d not been to a swampland before, and I looked forward to seeing another part of our Mother. Saddling Quincy the next day was fun, and even though I had to grind my teeth over a howl of protest at my hip as I swung into the saddle. As we started getting moving, I found myself looking forward to meeting the inhabitants of the swamps. If Violet had positive opinions of them, it meant they were likely going to be decent.

The terrain slowly changed around us, from the plains and prairies, to slowly but surely a more and more brackish. As we crossed a silt-laced river, Violet looked over. “We just crossed into Bayou territory. Keep your eyes open, but don’t draw a weapon – remember what we talked about. They’ll approach us before we approach them, that’s normal. Let Lucas and I do the talking.”

I understood that well enough – I was no one’s idea of a diplomat. River seemed to be determined to ride as close to the Guard as she could so she could stay near her brother. She had been sweet with him, and Violet had been talking to me for a few days about how I should conduct myself – I’d mostly shaken off the grim attitude about the technological advancement when Violet had told me, very pointedly, that if I walked around looking so “insufferably scorching grim” River would get the idea that there was no hope of Arcadia going forward with Gaia’s blessing – and that would be a terrible lesson to teach.

So I’d forced myself to look hopeful, as best I could. I was going to do right by River as a Mentor – the way I was increasingly realizing that Sage had failed for me. To show her what it was to be a Druid, and help her grow as a person – not just the specific aspect of her identity I’d been charged with helping mold, all of her. 

I was focused on that goal, even as we rode into the marshes, and heard something rustling in the brush. My hand twitched towards my sword and then stopped as I forced myself to remain calm. A group of men and women in a mix of sandals and boots, denim and silk, shirts or bare chests, emerged from the brush, some holding spears, others holding bows, none pointing at us, and all carrying themselves like people who knew every aspect of the land they walked. Beckett impressed me again by barking out the order to his men to keep their hands off their weapons, and to my great pride River kept herself looking calm and even raised a hand from the reins of her horse to wave at the locals. Violet spoke, quietly, and Lucas called out. “Hello. We’re from Arcadia. We’re on a diplomatic mission.”

One of the men looked at us, and nodded. “We’ll talk.”


	37. Bayou Hospitality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team arrives at the first settlement in the Bayou Confederacy, and I take full advantage of my beta reader's fluency in Cajun speech patterns

**Ash**

The group of Bayou locals had greeted us warmly enough, and I walked behind them, with the group as a whole, taking in the area. There were clear signs of the local religion - I’d ask Violet later if she had an idea of whether or not she considered the faith a legitimate or heretical one, but I saw at least a few wearing carved wooden Tree of Life sigils that were common to Rootism, a legitimate, commonly rural sect of Gaianism, which was a comforting sight. There were other things I didn’t recognize as I entered the home - a horseshoe, mounted above the door, curving up. The woman whose house we were in spoke to us, though in a dialect I didn’t know. “Leeyer wepns adidor. ‘Snot plight tebbe armed summons home.”

The soldier who’d mentioned originally being from the Bayou nodded. “They want us to leave our weapons at the threshold. They say it’s rude to be armed in someone else’s home.” I didn’t like the sound of that, but figured fair was fair. Lucas’s firm eyes held fast as he unbelted his knife and laid it down, and I unbuckled my saber - even as I saw River draw and lay down her knife as well. I hadn’t wanted to give up my holdout, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to hold onto. I flicked the flat-hilted little holdout out of my sleeve and laid it by the door. The Guardsmen did the same thing, unstringing their crossbows, laying the weapons down and unbuckling their swords. The Bayou folk were kind enough - offered us some of what was in the pot. I gave the stew a cautious sip, and smiled. It was mostly rice, with bits of some sort of meat mixed in and lots of spice. Had a big kick, too. Some sort of sausage, though definitely not the boar I knew from home. Bird, of some kind? Also, a lot of shrimp. The soup was excellent - different than the spice palette I was used to but delicious.

The host said something I again, couldn’t quite make out. She spoke more slowly the second time. “S’gumbo. Local.” 

Even I could follow that. The dish was called gumbo. Alright. I nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am.” The woman nodded. 

A few other people came in the door, and two of them seemed to recognize Violet. From the looks of things, she’d pissed off one and won the genuine respect of the other - I didn’t show it, but the idea of her personality being very hit or miss just about anywhere was an amusing one. 

River was still staying close to Beckett while Lucas began talking to the woman at the head of the table, while I sidled over to Violet. “What’s with the horseshoe?”

“Regional tradition. I don’t know the origin. Don’t go around eating any black chicken, even if you can trade fairly for it. Also, don’t make any jokes about me converting anyone while we’re here. Most of the Gaians you see only started calling themselves that because of my time here, but they were true to Her in other traditions, other ways, well before they met us. Be respectful.” I nodded, solemnly. The place seemed strange, but I couldn’t deny there was charm to it. I didn’t care much for the swampland, but there was a certain gaunt, haunting beauty to it. 

Even if occasionally seeing mosquitos big enough to draw steel on was enough to really push my faith that all living things deserved respect. 

Lucas was speaking quietly and with the matron of the town, and in the conversation, I heard him speaking about establishing friendships between our peoples. The matron was speaking with him in her own language, with the luckless Guard trooper stuck translating between the two of them, though the young man had at least seemed to communicate to the kind, well-spoken diplomat that his impressive vocabulary was going to make him come off as a bit of a ponce if he didn’t stop using it so excessively.

Then the lady brought out a heavy wooden spoon and struck it against the palm of her own hand, and the trooper winced. “Uh, Diplomat Lucas? She says she’s the owner of the townhouse, not a politician. And that if you don’t stop talking politics at the dinner table, she’s going to beat your ass. She seems to understand that this would be bad for all of us. So please, please just shut up.”

“She literally said three words.” The diplomat’s voice was strained, but credulous - Lucas was willing to listen, but seemed desperate to understand what was going on. I wasn’t about to break reputation to chuckle, but River made up for it with her massive, ear to ear grin. 

The trooper shook his head. “Verbally she only said the part about being the one who ran the townhouse. Everything else was nonverbal, and said through the spoon gesture. Trust me though, the translation is accurate, I was a kid around here.”

Lucas nodded, respectfully, still clearly a bit baffled but not willing to risk a diplomatic incident over stupidity and lack of fluency in the local tongue. “I apologize for my rudeness, ma’am. I was told you negotiated over food, and I misunderstood.” He bowed in apology as the trooper translated. The matron nodded and threw more on Lucas’s plate.

“Sir you should know that she’s willing to forgive your rudeness but that if you want to avoid the reputation of the kind of jackass no one respectable will meet with, you’d better eat every bite.” Lucas nodded and took a bite. It was clear that he didn’t see how that would require a great deal of fortitude or humility given the appeal of the food. There was a pause around the table while one of the local priests, one with skin even darker than mine and wearing a sigil of a religion I didn’t recognize began quietly chanting a strange prayer - I stayed silent, but did nothing. I wouldn’t want to cause offense, especially when one of the local Gaians asked Violet to perform a prayer with them over the meal as well. I knew that one, and joined in, along with River and the troopers.

The meal as a whole was amazing, and I learned then that they took pay in barter. 

A man, one clearly related to the woman who ran the place, was examining an Arcadian Guard crossbow, eagerly, and smiled. “Bet dis eer kin killa gator right well.” Beckett nodded. “Did he just say our crossbows would be better for hunting gators?”

Our erstwhile translator nodded. “Yeah. You can wrestle the damn things, and they can make good bows, but you don’t want to have to wrestle them, and a crossbow is easier to teach someone to use than the compound bows they’ve got here. And with the storms they’ve been having lately, I’m betting that a lot of the saltpeter mines they’d use to get the powder for boomsticks are a bit too drenched to get anything usable out of for a while. Bringing spare crossbows and bolts was a good choice of trade goods to bring.”

The couple agreed to put us up for a few of the crossbows and three sheaves of bolts. 

**River**

The landscape of the Bayou wasn’t pretty the way the forests or the plains were, but I made myself look at it through the eyes of Ash and Violet - if I was to be a Druid, I needed to see the land and earth as they saw it - different manifestations of our Goddess. Sitting down with my brother, my mentor, and the woman who seemed singularly capable of making his facade crack by bringing up obscure faith doctrines when he started getting too full of himself. The humidity wasn’t great, but the fire was warm, and the gumbo was amazing. I understood what they were saying about as well as Ash did, but I could see that Lucas’s vocabulary wasn’t helping and that the Foreign Affairs Stewardship might have been better off sending a less academic, better traveled diplomat instead of the soft-eyed bookworm. Especially since Lucas himself had mentioned that they retained the services of both more academic and more travelled personnel. 

Presumably the New England Empire would have been a better fit as a place to send Lucas. 

Beck was laughing again, the way he used to, and desperately wolfing down the food - though I could tell that military life had been amazing to his fitness and confidence and terrible to his mental health and table manners in equal measure. Listening in on the conversation, Beckett chuckled at the translator.

“You know. I’m really, really certain Landry is simplifying the hell out of what Lucas is saying.”

Then the soldier mentioned to the stewardship representative that maybe, the diplomat, sir, might try to sound like less of a pretentious ass, and Beck shrugged. “Maybe not.” Though he did still point out to me that the trooper, Landry, I guess, was now speaking far fewer words between each exchange, as though deliberately boiling Lucas’s words down to the bare essentials, and that’s when the matron grabbed the spoon and delivered her threat. 

Beckett actually asked for seconds with the food, and the matron grinned and gave him another spoonful. Landry chuckled. “Good on you, LT. That’s a good way to honor hospitality here. You’d be well served to tell the diplomat he ought to consider doing that when we meet the people who run this community. Miss Thibideaux is probably going to at least mention that Arcadian soldier boys have good manners.” I laughed.

“Better do that myself - can’t let the common troopers show up the Inquisition.”

“Best hurry, Druid Violet’s already on thirds.”

Ash broke in. “Druid Violet has told me in the past that she looks for every excuse to come on missions out here because she loves the spices they put in everything, you will hurt yourself if you try to outdo her. Seriously. I’ve seen that one eat after a fasting vigil, you do not want to try to compete with that. And before any of you say that you’re soldiers, remember that I’m the only damn Druid you’ll ever meet who was both, trust me, you’re out of your league when spicy food is involved.” He said it with such a flat inflection, no different than talking about weather or technique, that I had no doubt he was telling the truth.

Violet spoke, “Pepper sauce, please?”

The matron smiled - apparently that needed no translation - and put what I thought would be a bit much to manage in Violet’s food and she looked ecstatic as she ate. “Much obliged.” 

I knew those words. I was rapidly becoming more confused by the local language. 

As we got ready to bed down, Violet walked out for a moment, making polite excuses to the matron for herself, Ash and I, and we walked outside, sitting down on the strange, soft moss-covered stumps to do our nightly meditation, and Violet led instead of Ash. “You’re sitting on cushions made of what’s called Spanish Moss. It grows in these lands abundantly - holds heat reasonably. While the appearance of the land is more grim than our home, it still shows Gaia’s love for all who live within her. Breath in the warm wind, the humidity.”

I did, and could feel myself becoming relaxed, seeing Ash’s face slip into the satisfied tranquility it always did when he communed with Gaia, and I felt myself easing into the sounds, the scents, the night around us, and becoming part of it all before we went back in to sleep.


	38. Dinner Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River enjoys the Bayou Confederacy's culture, Violet and Ash argue.

**River**

The people of the Bayou were a friendly bunch, and it was the next day that we wound up speaking with the actual leader of the Bayou people - though ironically, a few of the Guardsmen had been told they were free to take time to teach the local hunters the finer points of quickly reloading, and tight marksmanship with the Arcadian crossbows. Beck had drifted off to do that, pretty clearly uninterested in the political rambling when he could be more helpful to the mission by getting in good with the locals and making a good impression, though he and the rest of the troops were told, quite clearly, to be back in the mayor’s house by dinner. 

Lucas was taking point, with Violet translating this time - Landry had gone off to aid in the instruction, and apparently wanted to try gator hunting again. I didn’t understand the desire to fight prehistoric reptiles for food, but I guess it was a tradition. I was learning bits and pieces about the little cultural things here, and looking between Ash and Violet for how to respond to them - though from Ash’s reactions to them, slight tension, a vague lack of emotion beyond his usual, I had a sense that the Inquisition was not supposed to be open minded, and he didn’t want word getting back to Belladonna about us being more atypical than normal, so I tried to follow his lead.

I learned later in our expedition that Ash actually did have a bit of a problem with the local customs.

But for right now, we were bringing the carefully smoked and wrapped boar from our own lands, as well as a variety of fruit jams and pickled vegetables and similar to offer for a feast in trade. Lucas had gotten that far in his reading - in the Bayou Confederacy, diplomacy was done over dinner, and feasts were the time for any outsider to demonstrate good intentions toward the whole community. 

The large cuts of boar were being roasted over hot charcoal, and the scent made my mouth water, even as the jam was decanted and passed around to be mixed with the biscuits they baked down here. Lucas was talking with the old married couple that seemed to run the place, more to the woman than the man, as Ash took his turn turning the meat on the massive pit. There seemed to be a good deal of excitement for the jams, the vegetables, especially the asparagus grown in Bay Hills. 

I noticed several chickens roasting on spits, though I saw several people be remarkably careful to avoid stepping on - or even too close to - a few black chickens wandering around. I glanced at Violet questioningly, and she shook her head. “There’s a local reason. Related to the local religion.”

I nodded - it had been the same explanation she’d given for why the locals seemed to have such a virulent aversion to arches with downward-facing openings and the like, but if it was a way to avoid trouble, I could always ask a local about it later. For now, the actual diplomatic mission was on and I wasn’t going to mess that up with curiosity. 

Tomorrow, no such restrictions needed apply.

Soon enough, the food was ready, and people started sitting down. The mayor - chief - boss - headman - leader - governor - steward - I honestly hadn’t gotten a clear idea what the proper title was - started speaking. I think I understood better than Ash, thought I still had to strain on some of the words. “Frens, t’day we’ve guess from Arcadia, who’ve come t’make friends with us. Dey stayed in t’spare house outside town, showin’ good manners, an’ bring good food an’ tradegoods t’show dey mean right, like one ‘f us would. Dey conquered Randaynia, freed the people. Dey swore t’be bet’neighbors, an’ dey swore true. Us come from ‘Cadians, back a ways, now ‘Cadians come to us.”

I blinked. The Arcadians had never mentioned once having any part of the founding of the Bayou Confederacy. I glanced sideways at everyone and Ash looked as baffled as I was. Even Violet looked completely baffled, though surprisingly Lucas looked as though this was a good sign, and looked like he knew what they were talking about.

He replied. “Thank you, sir. Ironically, most of us share no bloodline with the Acadians, but we do come to make friendships between our peoples. Your customs are beautiful and honorable, and our values, while coming from seemingly disparate sources, seem to be well in line with one another.”

Violet looked physically pained as she translated, first glaring at Lucas. “Lucas...I normally say the opposite of this, but please put down books and go outside more often. Please.” She turned to address the crowd. Her Arcadian accent still came through - ironically making it easier for me to understand her, but she spoke like the locals did. “I am Violet, Druid of Gaia, from Arcadia. Some y’all have seen me before, when I met your priests and queens. I learned your ways, some, and you learned my ways, some. Arcadia believes in Gaia, the Earth, and we teach Her ways to refugees and freed people. But we don’t need to show you Gaia, you always had Her, even by different names, and it’s beautiful and true.”

I smiled at the thought. Granted, the locals didn’t have a lot of the formal customs that I’d seen of the Gaians in Arcadia, and maybe they couldn’t do certain things quite as effectively, but from what I’d seen that was the result of the differences in population dynamics making a difference in resources that make certain things possible. For what they could do, they did it and did it bravely and proudly. People who needed help got it from the community, and if it was sometimes short on the full resources they could have gotten from Arcadia, it would still be enough. 

I smiled at the food they had hear - more gumbo, fried gator, rice everywhere. Decadent bourbon, though I didn’t enjoy liquor - I knew a little too much about how some older slaves in Randaynia were trained or softened, mentally, with the cheap stuff. Ash wasn’t drinking either, though for all I knew that was because if he got drunk he would actually start displaying emotion and I knew he’d never stand for that in front of this many people. Violet sipped it, and Lucas was eating eagerly, sipping hear and there. The soldiers, on the other hand, were loving it, and I suddenly felt very glad that Beck had insisted on them leaving their gear in the townhouse - the swords and crossbows, that was. They were still wearing the light protective leathers they’d worn on the hunt. 

I watched the feasting and felt genuinely relaxed. Some piper struck up a tune and I glanced around. I recognized the music, and I slowly stretched my vocal chords. “Ash. Mind if I join in?” He looked surprised, then shook his head. “Go for it.”

I ran over and began figuring out the song to put to their tune and started singing it, feeling the music come bubbling up from my chest like a laugh. I felt a little rusty at first, but I got it going, and the locals seemed to like it. The song was one I knew from the Archives - one from a dead faith, but the song - I was singing about all I’d been through, all that I’d come through, all I’d become since…

I sang for myself, and it felt glorious.

**Ash**

The feast went about as well as could be expected. It was delicious, actually. I could see what Violet loved about the place - in some ways, despite some of their more superstitious customs, they seemed to have been damaged only slightly by the Calamity, and they seemed to have hung on to what Arcadia had rebuilt into. I did enjoy them - even if the local language’s lack of enunciation completely baffled me. I tried to remind myself that I was mostly just pissed off because the damp had my hip and my stumps aching all day and that it was causing the natural inclination of suspicion towards other views drilled into every Inquisitor to flare up in inappropriate ways. Still, the horseshoes, the nonsense around the black chicken, it was enough to make me question how sane the locals were. 

The local leader’s speech had to be translated for me by Landry, but it seemed like we’d made a good impression. They appreciated our work in conquering Randaynia, they seemed favorably impressed with the food and weapons we’d brought to trade, and they liked the idea of a cultural exchange with us, after a fashion. Violet brought me up short by saying what she did about them having known Gaia by another name for ages, but I kept myself from saying anything - and actively stomped on the part of myself that doubted it. They did take care of their own, and the land seemed well cared for, and Violet was a Faith Circle Druid, so she had more right to determine what amounted to a legitimate pre-Circle sect than I did.

Once the feast got going, I saw, or rather, heard, my apprentice stand up and begin singing, while watching the common troopers get drunk with the locals. Lucas had been dragged to the side by Landry and was being given a crash course in the Bayou language, and I was happy to just lean back and listen to the music belting out of my apprentice’s mouth. Her voice was a beautiful alto, though she hit a few soprano here and there. I’d heard the song before, in Archives, but there was something lost in the recorded version from what I heard here - organic and beautiful. 

“Was Grace that taught my heart to fear, And Grace, my fears relieved How precious did that Grace appear The hour I first believed Through many dangers, toils and snares We have already come T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far And Grace will lead us home And Grace will lead us home” 

It was a song of a faith forgotten by Arcadia - one of an unsubstantiated god, with little relevance in the modern age. But the music was beautiful, and there were meanings in keeping with Gaianism or even secular life and love that could be taken from it, so the song itself had not been allowed to vanish in time or tide. In this moment, I was glad for that - River sang for herself. The version they sang here didn’t mention the dead god of this region at all, merely mentioning the longevity of their people’s presence and their pride in it. River’s voice, with that of the locals, sounded like peace and a promise of good things within mortal hearts, and peace within Gaia. It was enough to improve my mood considerably - the damp here was doing awful things to both the stumps of my fingers and the stiffness in my hip. 

When the music settled down, after a few more local favorites I’d heard in passing in the Archival music storage, as well as some without lyrics that River had simply sat down for, we finally went to bed.

I woke the next day, my stumps all but burning and my hip aching like it hadn’t in years - I was really, really starting to hate the damp around here - and ate with the group, Lucas slowly speaking heavily accented Cajun to the woman who ran the townhouse, thanking her for her hospitality. 

I noticed the horseshoe above the door again, and as we went to leave, I asked Violet about it.

“What local superstition is behind the horseshoe thing? And the black chicken stuff I saw last night?”

“Superstition” is a remarkably crass way of putting it, Ash. You know as well as I do that there’s no shortage of local customs. To answer your question, the horseshoe thing is a gesture who’s meaning has mostly been forgotten, it’s a good luck thing, to keep mischievous spirits out. I’ve also been told it’s just about good luck for those passing through one’s door. If you’re going to snipe at that, your Arboria-raised ass better stop making the Oak before every meal. It’s a kind gesture to those near you, nothing more. As to the black chicken thing - it’s something important to one of the local dieties. Important to another aspect of Gaia, per decree of me, the highest-ranking Faith Druid to personally set eyes on the practice, and as a scorching Mentor Rank, I might add, it is fairly damn unlikely that Oakheart will overturn my decision. As a guardian of the faith, you’d be as obligated to interfere in the killing of a black chicken in this region by some sneering imperialist halfwit as you would be to draw steel on someone attempting to set a living forest ablaze. Don’t ever forget, Inquisitor, your job is to defend the Faith, and enforce its doctrines - not to judge other legitimate sects as inferior. You can mock unsubstantiated deities whose followers think the earth is theirs to pillage - You and I were both at the expedition to raze Salt Lake City - but you will NOT degrade a pre-Circle faith simply because you have some Inquisitorial sense of superiority. If you want to go up against Belladonna and win, start by reflecting on just how much you’ve apparently learned from her.”

I reeled. She was right. I hated to admit it, but the local “superstition” was a legitimate sect, and I knew it. I’d seen other pre-Circle sects even in my native Arboria and I had learned to honor their strange customs as well, and it was my duty as an Inquisitor to seek to understand to better uphold the faith in all forms - not to denigrate sects I didn’t follow the logic of, especially for reasons as simple as xenophobic frustration with the local language. 

I bowed, and made the Roots. “You are right, of course, Faith-Mentor. I forgot my duty.” 

She nodded. “You did. And now you remember it. Don’t bother apologizing. Fix it going forward. Now. We were going to wake your apprentice and start meditating, yes?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Let’s.” It would be as good a chance as any for me to refocus.


	39. River's Record, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River writes a love letter to Tyler

Tyler, my love,

The mission is going well. Governor Greene is a man worthy of respect, and will do a good job running the Reclamation. I got a little triggered over there, but I’m okay now. Saw a different side of Ash, too. I swear, one day, I’ll know all his secrets. Beck’s recovering from the war, but it’s hard watching him shake, some nights. That said, it looks like the place is being rebuilt, and I heard rumors that the old slave chains got reworked in the big foundries in the Sandscar into weapons for the Guard, which was kinda cool to find out. I didn’t realize how cathartic it would be to see the Arcadian banner flying over the places where I’d…

Let’s not talk about that, actually. I miss you, Tyler. I wish we were cuddling, and I was running my hand over that cropped, bristly hair of yours. 

These days, we’re in the Bayou Confederacy. They seem to have an appreciation for the finer things - jam, pickled veggies, and quality-forged steel, while having an abundance of spicy food, prawns, and peach tea. Really, there is absolutely no downside to having positive relations with them. Ash struggles to understand the local dialect, and listening, I’m pretty sure Cajun is descended English with a touch of a few other things, but it’s become its own tongue over the years. I can usually make out the better part of it, but there’s a private in my brother’s platoon, Landry, who grew up out here before slavers kidnapped him, and he’s taught my brother - Beck never seems to need a translator. 

Ambassador Lucas is okay, too, though I get the impression that he’d definitely be better suited to have been sent to the New England Empire, or the Newfoundland Federation. He’s fluent in Spanish, might even be worthwhile to send him south to New Atzlan, but the Bayou seems to have been a poor fit for him. He’s doing it well enough, honors local customs, gets along with them. Started speaking a little less pretentiously. We’re a ways into the Bayou, and we’ve traded with at least six settlements. The people here are independent minded and proud of their customs, and Violet - the Faith Druid with us - says they should be recognized as a legitimate Ancestral Sect of Gaianism, since their values hold up well to ours.

But I’ll let her letter - attached here - talk about that, if you’re looking for sources in your article. Lucas’s opinions were likewise gathered. I wanted to make sure you got this story. We have a good rider amongst the troopers, and there is a courier horse for our purposes for him to take back. 

I think you’d like Violet, actually - she’s pretty unconventional, and her response when she found out I was dating a reporter was “Oh, nice! That should make life easier for you. Also, people like that are good at exploring secrets.” Speaking of which, I have a few more for you and I to explore if you want…

I mean, right. Can’t really go into that kind of detail when someone has to transmit this via radio to the archives where you’ll pick it up.

_I paused as I crouched over the writing desk and chuckled at my own words, trying to imagine some poor archivist having to transmit my excited fantasies to Tyler. The reporter had been on my mind a lot lately. A less romantic girl might have simply taken some time for a fling with one of the soldiers, but there were two problems with that. The first was that I am the romantic type, which meant I wasn’t going to be able to sleep around when I had the nonbinary newsie waiting for me back home. The second was that the soldiers were under Beck’s command, and the odds of him having gotten over the years he’d spent being protective of me enough that a soldier wouldn’t think of plowing his sister as suicide was slim to none, even if I was the type to mess around with them._

As to Ash, well, he’s been in better moods. I suspect the damp is getting to him in his wounds. But at the same time he’s been a little calmer, as well. I think being made to meditate, to regain some of his own peace, away from the politics of the Inquisition has been good for him, even if it’s making him ache a bit. Plus, spending time with soldiers seems to bring out a new side of him. One that’s a little more at peace with himself, ironically. I’ve been well, too, even if I do miss you. Oh, and try to be at the Arborean music festival - I’ve been working on rehearsing a song for it, and I want you to be in the audience. 

Oh, darling, by the way, you really do need to try the food here. I figured out why Okra back home has never appealed to me. They fry it twice here, completely fixes the texture, you have to try it. Alligator, too. You told me you were with a Delver clan, but you never told me how far east you guys wound up going. If you’ve never had alligator, it tastes like chicken mixed with fish - and the spices here, Scorch me, the spices. I know you love spices, I’ll try to get some pepper sauce and some hot sauce to bring back for you, love. Some of the seasonings too, they taste a little like celery, but I couldn’t begin to guess what else is in them.”

_That ought to keep people thinking I’m just a starry-eyed apprentice about to become a Journeyer, writing back to her lover. Plus, I really will bring back some of the hot sauce, because I want to see their face light up when they try it. If it’s hot enough, maybe they’ll even flush…wouldn’t that be cute._

Anyway, for your story, from my end, say that the people of the Bayou seem friendly and traditions well in line with those of Arcadia. Violet and Lucas will explain it as well, and the soldiers will have included a little bit about the benefits of being friends - they don’t have proper soldiers here, but their militia, according to Beck, are no joke, and something we want to ally with. 

Oh, jumping back to music, got to sing publicly again. It’s been so long, but it seems I’ve still got it. Haven’t done that since I was in choir as a kid, in the schools the Pamela’s had me enrolled in. Been practicing of course, but first time in front of a crowd in years. I’m pretty happy with what I managed, too - people were cheering. If you’d like, I can sing for you next time we get a little alone time. Not just like that, either, since I know what you’re thinking.

Lots of love, Tyler. I look forward to holding you again, having you grasp my hair, show me all sorts of strange places I’ve never been on my own, and go places with me I wouldn’t go with anyone else. I love you, and hopefully we’ll see each other in a few months when the mission ends.

Love

River


	40. Culture Clash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cultural tensions come to a head on more than one front.

* * *

**Ash**

The local religion continued to baffle me as I sparred with my apprentice. River was fast and brilliant, and these days the odds for her were only slightly less than even. My days as the greatest swordsman on the continent weren’t numbered, but my months of holding that title were, and I was proud of her. The sounds of wood striking wood echoed around the little hollow where River and I had decided to spar, all while the local militia and our Guardsmen escort watched. With a quick few exchanges I pushed myself, swirling the blade around and around until her sparring blade went flying before flicking the blade aside, but even as I did she twisted around and bodyslammed me, stepping inside my reach and knocking me down, then dropped on one knee and flicked her knife to my neck. The onlookers cheered wildly, and I smiled.

“That was amazingly good thinking, Apprentice. Now you’re fighting like a master. Try not to let someone knock the sword out of your grip to set up for a gambit, though.” She chuckled.

“Didn’t really “let” it happen. I just went for it once it happened.” 

I nodded. “Good. It worked, and that’s the kind of tenacity you need to fight like we do. Now, let me up.” She got off me and I rolled to my feet as my apprentice recovered her sparring blade. Both the Guardsmen and the militia looked at us with awe. The Guardsmen didn’t surprise me, given that back when I was a soldier, we focused a lot more on the crossbow than the sword - though both had done work during the war, the bolt had claimed more of the slavers and their soldiers than the saber by a wide margin. The Guard were still good swords, but not like River and I. The militia seemed in awe, which made sense - they were accustomed to fighting with machetes and hatchets and cudgels, and while I’d seen them fight well enough, no four of them together would have been a match for River or I. 

Still, I had to admire the people here, eager as I was to go back to where customs made sense. Lucas’s understanding of the language was improving, and even mine was - had to get used to sort of half-growling the words instead of my usual, clipped tones. Ah well, it was working out. Meditations were nice, and we’d been through a procession of fun enough dinner diplomacies, during which I’d come to learn more about the baffling local sect. The people weren’t bad, but they had many customs I found bizarre. 

Still, it wasn’t until I went on a brief hunt with the troops that I saw something that argued these people’s ways still needed working on, in ways that went beyond material assistance. We were walking through the swamps, my hip aching, my crossbow ready. I heard something splashing in the water and raised the crossbow to my shoulder to sight, but before I could, an alligator surged from the brackish water, lunging at the legs of one of the men. He staggered back and slammed some sort of tube into the snapping jaws, and I heard a loud, ugly bang and smelled acrid smoke rising from the point of impact. The back of the gator’s head had burst in a rush of gore, and had a brief flash of Mason’s ruined skull on the hill at the Sternguard, and I shook myself. “Scorch me, what the…”

I stopped myself. It would have torn his leg off if he hadn’t used the weapon. Still, the guns themselves weren’t a bad indicator that these people weren’t quite as pure as Violet claimed. Followers of Gaia didn’t use weapons that released toxic smoke or spat poisoned metal into the ground or sky. I shook with fury as I helped them get the beast onto the wagon. The gators weren’t endangered, and the local humans’ preying on them was definitely part of the ecosystem, so nothing wrong with that - any more than an Arcadian hunting a boar. Not that one would have used a gun for it.

A few of the troopers were staring at me, clearly wondering what I’d do about the use of a weapon forbidden to all of them, under Faith law. “Life or death. Life wins. I have questions, but that is the business of the Inquisition. Suffice to say, this would be an exception under the law, because it was what he had.” I was not going to be responsible for a diplomatic incident. 

But I was going to have a scorching word with Violet about the Bayou people’s use of gunpowder technology. 

River tagged along when we got back, and I approached the unorthodox Druid. “Violet, I need something clarified.” She glanced at me, and paused for a moment, as though unsure what to make of this, but she wasn’t speaking with anyone, so she stood up and followed. 

“At a guess, something you couldn’t share with our hosts. What is the issue?”

“Forbidden technology. Your “legitimate ancestral sect” has developed the first in a line of weapons that allowed half the Old World to be conquered and exploited, to say nothing of the poisonous nature of the weapons themselves. Sure, they’re only using it on a small scale against hostile, prehistoric wildlife now, but those kinds of weapons tend to lend themselves well to power without discipline or restraint - and you and I both know what that looks like. Our world is built on two graves - one that was brutalized because someone thought weapons technology was worth researching and wanted their land, and one that never learned how to restrain someone with a technological edge from taking whatever they wanted to feed their greed. For that matter our newest province is built on three.”

River burst out then. Burst out in a way I’d never seen her.

“Really!? Really, Ash? You’re going to compare these people to the monsters that enslaved me or torched the old world because they use a fucking gun? They took us in as travellers. They fed us, they let us sleep in their homes. They didn’t make us pay for any of it - we traded with them to make a good impression, but Violet, if we’d had nothing to trade, what would have happened?”

“They’d have let us stay, but they’d have wanted a bit of help with a few basic tasks the next day to pay for room and board, then we’d have been free to go.” 

“Right. Where I was branded, sterilized, and regularly caged simply for being too young to support myself when my parents died - well, that compounding the sin of not having relatives able to take care of us, anyway - and dozens of others were every year for not being able to make rent. But the Randaynians used GUNS and these people use SHOTGUN SHELLS ON STICKS and Ash suddenly thinks they’re comparable. You’ve already admitted that they don’t have the capacity or resources to produce steel that’ll get through a gator. Do you think, if I’d had a gun back in Randaynia, I wouldn’t have used it? Do you think that when I was starving in a cage, had someone slipped me a pistol and I could have lined up the sights on Cara’s head, or Logan’s, I’d have waited for your people because the weapon wasn’t right? Not everyone has the privilege of doing things the right way, Ash. Sometimes people do the best they can with what they have. And you know what pisses me off the most about that? You recognize that! We’ve TALKED about how your time in the military wasn’t necessarily the best thing you could have done to help slaves in Randaynia, but you enlisted because it was what you had! These people use what they can to help their families, and yeah, sometimes it involves strapping a shotgun shell to a stick! Not mass producing them, just making enough to get by!”

I was taken aback by my apprentice’s fury. I hadn’t really thought I was equating the two, of course. These people were leaps and bounds better than the slaving bastards I’d fought fifteen years ago - and anyone should have been able to recognize that I knew that, since I hadn’t actively been trying to start a war. “I understand that the Bayou is not Randaynia. I admit that bangsticks and the mercenary rifles and shotguns aren’t the same. But this kind of technology is one of the roads to the kind of power that lets people subjugate others like that. I’m sorry that I brought up bad memories - of course it isn’t the same.”

River seethed and took a breath. “That isn’t even remotely the problem. The problem is that you don’t understand what it’s like to not have what you need to do everything “right” and you’re far too happy judging people who do, from the position of being a fucking Inquisitor.”

She was right in a way, these people absolutely had no ill intent. “You’re right. They aren’t doing it for bad reasons. But the people who developed these sorts of weapons the first time didn’t mean to set into motion what they did. They just wanted to make hunting easier. The man who made the internal combustion engine didn’t mean to melt the poles and flood the world, but his invention took off, and look what happened. That’s why we nip these things in the bud.” 

I could tell River was barely managing not to scream. “You’re missing the scorching point, Ash. We’ve worked together for three years now! How have you still not managed to grasp that I don’t actually give a shit about the guns! Yeah, their existence is a problem. But it’s not the one I’m frustrated with. Half the Inquisition thinks I’m not fit to be an Inquisitor because of where I was born, and the one man in my corner in that entire intranicene fuckfest is apparently only there for me as an exception rather than the rule!”

I reeled. There it was. And she was right. River had a way of seeing things I didn’t, always. It was one of the many things that impressed me about the young woman. And then there was the mention of her time as a slave. I knew it had an effect on her, and the reality of her mistreatment wasn’t a secret - I’d been there when the medics had taken the report, and had led enough assaults on facilities where new slaves were processed to see how bad it was in person. And I knew, intellectually, that that effect would never end. Just as I knew that the effects of war would never really be gone for me. I realized, then, that I had failed as a Mentor in the most inexcusable way possible - I’d allowed myself to assume my apprentice was dealing with her own pain in the way I always had, and had failed to support her as a result.

“You’re right, River. And...I haven’t been the Mentor I should be, about a lot of things. I’m sorry.” I caught myself before I said anything else in that vein. “I’ll never let you down like that again. I promise.”

River glowered, took a deep breath, turned on her heel so sharply that I was sure she’d been watching her brother drill his troops, and walked away. For a moment I wanted, more than anything, to follow her, and make sure she was alright, beg forgiveness as a mentor, but I took all my practice at repressing stupid, emotional decisions and ruthlessly stomped on that urge until it stopped twitching. I had taught her that guilt-fueled self-flagellation and begging for forgiveness were all useless things to do that often made things harder for the person processing whatever you’d done to them. My refusal to ever break my own rules was one of the reasons she had to trust me, and I had damaged that quite enough for one day. I forced myself to sit down. She’d have to come back on the march home, but I wouldn’t push. She could decide if she wanted to mend this or not. I desperately ignored the part of me that hoped she would.

And I was forced to deal with one more thing. Sage, in many ways, had let me down. He’d taught me the blade, he’d taught me about our Faith, but he’d never really dealt with any of the distance that had happened when my apprenticeship had come to a pause during the war, for three years. I had to do better for River, but I had one edge already, one that Sage had given me, though I hadn’t understood his meaning at the time. 

“Apprentices don’t teach you as much as you teach them,” he’d said, “But the things you learn from them are far more important than the things they’ll learn from you, in many ways.”


	41. Roads Home, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River reflects on her conflict with Ash and her hopes for the future

**River**

Ash was silent as we began the march back, and honestly it suited me just fine to stick with the soldiers and with Violet and let him see if, for once in his cold-blooded life, he could figure out how to approach someone who couldn’t shut everything out, and who he had really, really pissed off. 

It was strange, watching him think about reaching out, then checking. Like he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with emotions - his or mine. It was infuriatingly similar to how Logan had acted when I’d gotten defiant long enough. Simply waiting for my feelings to blow over and get back to survival. Though Ash was watching, making sure I was eating. At least one night when I woke up cursing, I found his spare blanket folded at the foot of my bedroll. Which, the logical part of my mind sharply reminded me, meant he was not Logan, or Cara. He wanted me to be alright. That revelation had just infuriated me further, and I’d asked Violet to go into the open woods outside camp with me to meditate. I needed someone to help me calm down enough to commune with Gaia properly and it wasn’t going to be Ash.

“Alright, I don’t know what you were taught during initiation. So if you already knew this, feel free to tell me.” Violet was sitting on a stump, toes digging into the ground, taking in a breath. “But you don’t have to close your eyes. Try keeping them open. Gaia isn’t a feeling - She’s everything, all around us. Taking Her in with your eyes is just as acceptable as listening to Her voice in the wind and bird song. This isn’t about any one way to do it. It’s whatever lets you feel part of the Earth more. I will ask you to not experiment with the Boundless way of doing things around me.” I looked at her questioningly. I had known that the eyes didn’t have to be closed, I just preferred it that way. She chuckled. “Boundless Sect participate in a form of nudity, laying in repose on the earth and communing with Her through resting on her as all life began.” I started laughing at the thought. 

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning to.” I paused and took it in. “Violet. What should I do?”

“That’s going to be up to you, and you’ll have to find your own answer. I think you need your space to sort through things, and I think you’re right to meditate, clear your head, figure out what’s important. If you want to talk to me about any of what you’ve been through, I’ll listen.” I opened my mouth, but then wound up clamping it shut and shaking my head. Earthen Mother, hear me. I want to understand. I want to be understood. I gently spread my hands out on the ground. Saw roots of the stump Violet was sitting on, saw how they tangled with one of the intact trees in the copse. How things connected. How thick the intact tree was, at about the height of the stump. I was fully aware, thanks to the ecology the Circle taught, that tree girth wasn’t connected to seeing and learning from the felling of another tree. But the power I saw in that trunk made me smirk. There seemed to be some degree of damage informing growth, even if I knew that wasn’t the cause for the trees in this copse as much as the world as a whole. Just like Arcadia. Just like the Bayou. I looked down at the sword I still hung from my hip and traced the scars on my neck. Just like me. 

The second day was a little better - I was missing our sparring sessions, though I was still angry, and I asked a few of the Guardsmen - including Beck - if they wanted to practice. I learned, quite quickly, that the difference between one world-class swordswoman and eight trained blades who are merely adequate but work in concert is heavily tilted in the favor of the team. My blade was faster and better wielded than any of theirs, but I couldn’t get past the thicket of parrying blades and score a hit without leaving myself open to one of the others in the squad. Though it had at least been a workout. A few of the troops were whistling at the swordplay, but Beck shrugged when I saw I was sulking at the result. “Come on, Riv. I know you studied under a swordmaster and you’re well on your way to full mastery yourself, but that’s one of the things about the way they teach you in the Guard - teamwork and co-ordination beat individual skill every time.” Ash had beaten eight Nihilons covering my back, but I suppose they were neither disciplined, nor coordinated and for that matter even Ash had only taken them three at a time. 

When I walked away, I brought the sheet music for my song with me - the stuff I’d printed in the Archives before we’d left. I realized, only three verses into the rehearsal, that a song I’d deliberately picked for being so perfect for the challenges Ash and I, as a team, represented to the hierarchy of the Inquisition, was probably not the best to be singing when I was this furious. 

It wasn’t until the third day that it clicked for me that he couldn’t reach out. Or more accurately, he couldn’t do it without compromising what he’d tried to teach me after my conversation with Vera. When you’ve hurt someone, you apologize, you wait, and you let them decide if they want to forgive you. He was going to give me the space I needed to figure it out. I almost growled in frustration. It was so typical of Ash. His integrity wasn’t something I could doubt, but it meant that in this situation I had to really work through what I wanted before I could talk to him - which was especially frustrating since, while I was still furious at him, there was a big part of me that wanted his advice. 

Right. Focus. That was the first thing he’d have said. What is my goal here? Broad strokes, I still wanted to be an Inquisitor, and I didn’t know if I could do it without Ash. Sure, I could throw him under the cart and Belladonna would give me a new Mentor, but I had little faith that individual would actually want to teach me that well - though they would have little chance of outright killing me, thanks to the swordsmanship I’d already learned, and I was sure I could get through training even with a grudging teacher. 

But that didn’t really answer my question. It just meant I had the option of ditching Ash if I was willing to trade one set of frustrations for another. So I needed to reflect on what to do. On one hand, Ash was one of the most infuriating people I had ever encountered. He had brutally high standards, and demanded that I measure up to them. He was difficult to talk to on the best of days, and he was, I was increasingly realizing, profoundly damaged. He cared, but in a very distant way, and I was fairly sure that Ash never really wanted to reckon with his own trauma, much less anyone else’s - which made trying to explain things to him incredibly difficult. 

At the same time, it would be hard to find anyone else in the Inquisition who genuinely believed in me, which was an amazingly strong positive in his favor. He was undeniably superb with a blade, and I was going to be outright bored sparring with anyone else, which was a much smaller advantage. I trusted him, despite all his arrogance and prejudice, because he was consistent. He kept his word, and his dedication to his ideals bordered on barely contained insanity. Which brought around the other frustrating thing about Ash. He was dedicated to what he believed, and it made him so scorching stubborn. I didn’t think anyone else would have been 

I knew he’d never betray me. But I had no guarantee of him really making an effort to understand me, either, if he didn’t get over his shit. 

Oh, _poisoned sky._

He was the only one in the Inquisition who would have a chance if he tried. It had been Ash who dragged me out of that hell, bloody sword in hand, and Ash who I’d seen wake up shaking like a leaf, knew he’d been checking on me constantly. Before and after our visit in Randaynia. When we’d first met - well, first met as Inquisitors, anyway - he’d reeled at that, he had the same memory of that moment I did. He had all sorts of trauma worked up in that war.

He was the only Inquisitor who had any visceral, emotional idea of what I’d been through, because he’d been the only one of the whole Circle to enter Randaynia with the Guard and take part in pulling people out. 

And...while the circumstances around the loss of his parents and his adoption hadn’t been as abusive, I knew from Violet, and from some of Ash’s own statements, that his family had died in the same Arcitin outbreak that had claimed Vera’s original family. So maybe he could understand struggling to find your place as well, if he was willing to talk.

Shit. I had my decision. And it made sense - he had saved my life twice. I didn’t want to throw him under the bus, which was realistically what I’d have to do to get another Mentor. I was going to need to talk to him, though. Make him understand that we were going to be open about emotional things if I needed it. Hell, if he needed it, regardless of how much he liked or hated opening himself.

I nudged Daisy over to where Ash and Quincy were trotting along. A sudden, sharp breeze lifted my hair, and his, and I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, listened to the trees rustling. If Gaia was there, I thought the scent on that wind was a good sign. 

“Ash. We need to talk.”


	42. Roads Home, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and River talk and figure things out going forward

**Ash**

I had been busy forcing myself not to worry, and practicing swordplay with the Guardsmen in between meditations and caring for Quincy. I generally fared better, from what I heard around the camp, than River - not better enough to win against clustered squads, working in concert, but better enough that in a real fight I’d be taking some of them with me. Then again, I’d actually cut my teeth as a fighter on battlefields of massed warriors, not the fast, loose brawls common to the Inquisition, which gave me a bit of an edge in that regard - certainly by raw talent and capacity for learning River was on par with anyone I’d seen.

I’d been regularly performing rituals of redemption with myself - thinking about past sins but also focusing on what I had to do going forward. Planting little seeds - local ones, that I’d picked up as I passed. Little ways of marking the Earth with evidence of renewal, as a form of making a promise to our Goddess of what I had to do with the rest of my life. I hated knowing what came next. I was going to have to actually start dealing with the things I kept buried. From my failures with my apprentice, to the isolation, to that crystal moment in the chaos of the Trainyard where my frenzied voice had been picked out among the cacophony and my suggestion to commit one of the greatest taboos had been adopted. 

But today, I was focused on my own bigotry - I had let River down, by being so narrow minded. She wasn’t wrong, in regards to what she’d said during our argument - and it had come on the heels of what Violet had told me about how I’d been treating the locals - a legitimate sect, I saw that now. I was absolutely clinging to Belladonna’s party line in that - a party line that castigated me for trying to do the right thing and one that saw my apprentice as permanently tainted by where she came from. 

I sighed. Violet had kindly volunteered to walk River through meditations, and had been talking to me about it.

“So, can I ask why you’re not the one reaching out to her?”

“Because after we met someone she used to know, from…before the war,” I said, trying to avoid diving into that story, “She asked me what to do when you contribute to trauma through negligence and you don’t know what to do about it. How to stop feeling guilty, how to patch the relationship.” I shrugged.

“And what did you tell her?” Violet’s tone was leading.

“I told her that guilt was a worthless feeling, and that her former acquaintance shouldn’t have to burden herself with dealing with River’s. And that the proper approach is to apologize, listen, and let them decide if they want to continue a relationship.”

Violet paused. I didn’t continue. Then she spoke. “Ash. You know that failing to Mentor badly enough that your Apprentice requests a new one will be everything Belladonna needs to have you knocked back to Adept or possibly Journeyer - if not cast out in disgrace from the Inquisition altogether, given the circumstances, right?”

I nodded. I was well aware of that aspect - it was something people were told when they reached Adept rank in any Circle - teaching the next generation to properly care for Gaia so that the cycle could continue was the most important duty of any Druid, that was pounded into you yearly on. Failing at it through abuse, neglect, or sheer incompetence, even if you succeeded in all other areas, argued that your ascent was quite possibly a mistake in the eyes of the Earth Mother. Which was of course, one of the reasons that Belladonna had assigned River to me in the first place - why destabilizing me with River had been so critical for her. River might not know it - and would more than likely be protected for a time in the interest of disposing of me and mopping her up later - but being most of the way through her Apprenticeship with a failed Mentor would bode poorly for her ascension as well.

“If you tell her, she’ll feel coerced. I want her to know she has a choice - likely enough, if she’s willing to work with Belladonna, she’ll be fine for long enough to carve herself out a niche. Once she’s in, she’ll be too well dug in to be thrown out. She’s smart - I taught her that well, at least. And she won’t fall for the trap I did. She’s better at people than I am.” 

Violet groaned. “Ash, you know you’re one of the most infuriating people I’ve ever met. It should be so easy to think of you as this incredibly insensitive bastard who only understands emotions when it’s convenient for you,” she shot me a shrewd look and I felt a jolt of panic shoot through me. Was that what people thought? She was still talking, “Or at least, only understands them when they’re distant from you in an investigation, but then you go and do shit like this, where you have a clear way forward that doesn’t hurt you but that violates some sort of principle of yours - always in keeping with the Faith, but often as not an interpretation of it unique to you - and that keeps people guessing.”

I chuckled. “Well, have to keep people on their toes somehow, I suppose.”

She laughed but looked me over. “River has changed you, you know. She’s going to change you more, before all this is over.” 

I nodded. “I hope so.”

It wasn’t until the day after that that I heard hoofbeats and saw River reigning up beside me. “Ash. We need to talk.” Violet took up her reigns a little tighter and gently nudged her horse to the head of the column, leaving us to bring up the rear alone. I flinched, internally. She’d made a decision. I hoped she’d decided I was still someone she wanted teaching her.

“I’m willing to stay on as your Apprentice. You’ve brought me this far, and I don’t want to go the rest of the way to Adept without you. But things are going to change, at least some. Start with, we’re going to talk about the past. This mission’s been hard on my trust in you - not destroyed it, but cracked it a bit. That you left me the space to figure it out is why we’re having the conversation. To restore the trust you want, I need to understand you, and know that you understand me. We’re going to start talking about the past. Yours, and mine. Maybe we’ll ask Violet if she knows of anyone who can be trusted with Inquistorial secrets like the ones that’ll come up. And…I want to talk to some of the other Druids you know. The ones you trust, about what we’re really getting into. If you can promise me all that - and I know how you keep your promises - we’ll be able ”

I felt a surge of dread at her words, and anger, and sadness, but also a flood of relief that I would be able to continue teaching her, and continue to be part of the Inquisition, in hopes of fixing it. I took a breath, taking in the clean air, and then met my Apprentice’s eyes.

**River**

Ash’s dark eyes met mine as he took a breath. I took one too, trying to calm myself. As confident as I knew I’d sounded, I had said what I needed to - but I knew I was asking for promises of information Ash didn’t want to share, had quite possibly never shared, and in exchange, tacitly offering promises of things I did not want to talk about. This was the moment, then, when I found out if he thought I was worth that. If he thought my outbursts, my walking away, and now my arrogance - justified, yes, but still - in demanding his secrets made my continued training simply not worth it anymore? I had other options, if I was willing to betray him, but for all I’d left Randaynian ethos behind, I still owed him for saving my life, and a debt was a debt. I really didn’t want to pursue anything that would make me repay that with treachery.

I saw my Mentor try to say something, then stop. He forced himself to take a breath, then he spoke.

“River. I want you to know, that had anyone else asked me for what you’re asking, they’d get a very different reply. But you’re right. I’ve asked you to take a lot on faith, and that faith hasn’t been entirely earned. We’ll talk. Both of us. We’ll figure things out. We’ll make sure you’ll measure up to whatever test they throw at you and become a Journeyer. Then an Adept. And then, some day, we’ll fix the Inquisition. Make it what it should be. I will insist, however, that we start talking about the past when we are on the road alone again. Where it can remain between us and Gaia - there are too many prying ears around a column like this. I like your brother, and Violet, but the others here have no business knowing all the things I’ve done - or all the things you’ve been through. Agreed?”

I sagged in my saddle. I had…I felt so much better. I hadn’t wanted to lose this relationship, and I had to admit, there was a part of me, as horrified as I was thinking about digging all that up, that had craved telling Ash about where I was coming from, the experiences that had made me want to be in the Inquisition. Wanted to know from him too. What had happened to him, why he was the way he was, what he’d done that he seemed to carry so much guilt - something he decried as a worthless feeling, one that only led people astray. As to his opinion on when we could talk - I didn’t like the wait, but he was absolutely right. Beck and Violet, I’d have been fine with overhearing us. Lucas or the other soldiers…not as much. Which was odd since we were surrounded by a Reclamation unit, who’d just been through a war, so it wasn’t as though the soldiers wouldn’t understand the trauma of slavery or combat. I was sure Beck at least had told some of them about his…

Then I realized something. Beck had mentioned his best friend in the Guard had been killed during the fighting. He was dealing with something Ash would understand, better than I would. And his own attempt at covering it up, when we’d first met with the rest of his unit…

He was going to need help. Before he sunk too deep behind that mask to remember the person behind it. Like Ash had… a little voice in my head whispered. 

“Alright. One more thing. If you think you could. Could you help my brother, a little?”

Ash stiffened, and then seemed to make the same realization I had. “Yes. I think so. When next you write a letter to him, I’ll send something along with it. Help him out a little. Give him some advice I should have gotten. Unless you think it would be better to simply leave a note in his pack - we went over dead-drop messages before this jaunt, and clearly we could both stand the practice.” It struck me as odd that he would rather have his advice written than delivered directly, but…

Oh. Ash knew that it would be overheard, and he thought it should be up to Beck whether or not to make it obvious that he wanted advice from someone like Ash. And whatever advice Ash had, it was something he didn’t necessarily need overheard. I paused as I considered that.

“Ash. He needs whatever you can give him. He’s buttoning up - so did you. I know you don’t want to talk about war in front of people - but they understand it in a way that Violet and I don’t. And I know Beck probably won’t thank you, now, for letting it be heard. But you know, and I know that he needs it. You heard him break down. You’re the only one who shares that experience.”

Ash paused. “There’s…it’s not just my privacy, though you aren’t wrong about that being a factor - and that it’s selfish. It’s also that…well, this is a Guard thing, but Beck’s an officer. You don’t talk about your struggles to your subordinates in the military. You don’t let them know you have any, so that they don’t worry about you. It wouldn’t be right to approach him with this in front of them - did you notice how they peeled off when you and he were talking, back in…”

I blinked. “Right. That makes sense. What if I had him come over here? Some time down the road. A way of catching up between siblings before he goes back to the Garrison and you and I hit the road again. Then you talk to him. The soldiers won’t get too close, and I’m certain Lucas is a little too unsettled by you to violate our privacy. And Violet wouldn’t.”

Ash nodded in approval. “Good thinking. Apprentice?” I took a breath at that statement. It was a question, a request.

“Yes, Mentor?”

“I look forward to being there as you rise through the Circle’s ranks.”


	43. Soldiers, Old and Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and Beckett talk about experiences in war, Beckett opens up to River about his intentions with Vanessa.

**River**

Ash and I had resumed our sparring sessions, to the older Inquisitor’s obvious relief. We were both sitting down to look at Whispers of the Earth, and Violet was sitting in on us, as Ash had swallowed a degree of pride to have the other Druid help with the theological side of my education - saying something to the effect of clearly needing a refresher course. “Is that what they teach you that passage means in the Inquisition?” Violet sounded offended. “That is not what…” She sighed. “You are of the Earth Mother, challenge her not with the hubris of man. We are a part of her, but only a part. To imagine ourselves as more than that is to risk once more sending us unto the cinders and dust of the Old World. Set no stock by that which poisons the land and sky, nor that which would separate you from her.” The passage was from the Book of Laws, the parts that the Inquisition was supposed to enforce. Along with the Book of Communion and the Book of Love, it composed the core of the Gaian faith.

“Right. So, Ash. This refers to developing technology that harms the environment and allows people to separate themselves from the Earth enough that they can get into a positive feedback loop of exploitation and pillage. It’s the reason we don’t allow fossil fuels and combustion engines - but why things like crossbows, ploughs, electric lights, bicycles, all labor-saving things that still require some labor and some degree of communion with the earth to make and maintain - are allowed. The use of lead and gunpowder is the worst you could accuse the Bayou militia of. And even then it’s a stretch. The smoke of cordite isn’t really chemically more toxic than woodsmoke after a day, and I do happen to know that they recover the lead they fire so it doesn’t poison the soil.”

Ash nodded. “Right, and this passage…”

“The other children of Gaia may prey upon one another for sustenance, and so too may we, taking only what we need, as per the laws laid in the Book of Communion. To prey upon one another is to abandon our purpose as the caretakers of our Mother’s mortal needs. The Book of Love is clear, and in our role as keepers of balance, we must seek to create justice wherever we may. Slay only where you must, for death is but rarely dealt in service of true justice, but you need not stay the hand of action when the weak are preyed upon by the strong.” Violet pointedly stared at him, “That passage is what you need to throw in the face of the next Inquisitor who tells you your service in the Guard was out of keeping with the Inquisition's mission. Then, I want you to do me a favor and ask them why they stayed their hand when their skill in both combat and intelligence gathering could have saved lives and helped people.”

Ash winced, and as we’d been there for a while, I thanked Violet. “Hey, Violet. Speaking of things related to the Guard, my brother is coming to our tent for advice.” 

Violet nodded. “Right. Ash mentioned.” She gave me a quick hug and walked out of the tent. I looked at Ash.

“Alright. I’m going to go get Beck.” I stood up as Violet left the room, leaving Ash cross legged on the floor of the tent. I walked towards the Guardsmen camp, where the soldiers were grumbling about the dried meat, and swapping plans about what they’d do when they got back to Arcadia - most of it seemed to involve drinking or hooking up with significant others. Soldiers being...soldiers, they were talking about a lot of the kinds of sex I knew half of them were lying about. It wasn’t just the men, either. A few of the female troopers were joining in. 

I chuckled as a few of them went quiet. “LT! Your little sister’s here for a visit!”

Beck emerged from his tent, looking a mix of excited and nervous. “Hey, Riv. What’s up?”

“Oh, I just wanted to catch up a little. Come over by the tent. Ash and Violet are talking about stuff above my paygrade in the woods, and we’re not going to get a lot more time to chat before you go back to the garrison and I go back to training.” The lie was one I’d rehearsed for the benefit of the soldiers - due to the dead drop Ash had suggested, I had actually given him a note to let him know what I was thinking ahead of time. 

“Above your paygrade? I didn’t think Inquisitors got paid.”

I blinked. “We do and we don’t. I get a lot of benefits, and we get a certain budget each year for luxuries, and the Circle comps us for all but the most expensive restaurants. But we don’t draw regular pay, no. Also, bite me.” 

Beck chuckled as we walked back towards the tent. “Hey, Riv? I want to catch up, but is it okay if I just talk one on one with your Mentor about this? I don’t know how to talk about these things with people who haven’t been in it, and...There’s still part of me that says I have to look after you. Maybe being an older brother is one of the reasons I was good at the whole...being an officer thing.” I felt hurt, but I admitted to myself that I had suspected that possibility. And I honestly wanted to catch up to Beck. Then I noticed something - a little pen smudge around his hand.

“Hey, Beck. What were you writing?”

“Just...a letter.” He got a blush on his face that meant he was embarrassed about something, and I forced myself not to ask. I figured I’d get it out of him later.

We entered the tent, and I ran to go catch up with Violet. “Give me a shout when you get done talking with Ash!”

**Ash**

I heard River’s brother enter the tent before I saw it - I had my eyes closed, trying to meditate and calm myself before the conversation to come. River’s footsteps were quiet - she had been learning, and learning well.

“So, Inquisitor Ash.” I would have laughed at that normally. “Inquisitor” wasn’t an honorific. But this was something that mattered. “My sister says you understand some of what I’m going through. Some of the things I can’t talk about to the troopers. She told me that as cold as you seem, you could help.”

I nodded. “I hope so. For starters, I know why you’re concealing what you are, and I don’t think you have a better choice in front of your troops. I get that. But if you don’t want people saying you’re made of steel in 10 years, people being shocked that you feel anything at all, you have to be open with your emotions some of the time.”

Beck started laughing, a little, “I think that’s a little...oh.” I let myself smile a little as it clicked for him how I started. I didn’t feel the need to tell him that I was a fairly reserved person to begin with and trauma had only made it worse.

“I don’t know. There’s a degree of rage, all the time. People get angry about stupid shit, I find myself wanting to deck them. I don’t even like the war, but it...felt realer, in some ways, than anything I’ve done before or since. But it feels surreal, looking back. Everything was sharp and focused, even if I couldn’t make sense of it. Gunfire, flashing blades, the thrum of bowstrings…”

I nodded. “It’s like a bad dream that’s so real that when you wake up, you aren’t quite sure if it wasn’t a vision of your actual life.”

Beck nodded. “Exactly. And...I did some stuff I’m not the proudest of, when battle got bad enough, when I was angry...there was a point, after the day I lost my best friend, when one of the enemy soldiers - the professionals - was saying he surrendered, laying down his weapon. I pretended I didn’t hear him. Couldn’t stop thinking about my friend taking a hatchet to the skull, watching men like that haul me and River to the fucking warehouse when we were…” He took a shuddering breath. “It isn’t...so much that I think he deserved to live, I don’t. Anyone who did those kinds of things doesn’t. But in that moment, I wasn’t killing him because he deserved it. I was doing it because I was pissed off, and by the time I realized I’d made the decision the sword was already coming down.”

I tried to shrug, but words came out I never planned on saying again. “I understand exactly how you feel. What you’re talking about...How much do they tell you about the Battle of the Rail Junction?” 

“Officially? That they refused to surrender. Unofficially I’ve heard...stories.” His tone of voice was carefully neutral. I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s about right. Whatever you’ve heard, just know it was right after the initial shock of their counter-attack, and the Battle of the Sternguard. We’d just started pushing back, and we’d seen what happened to a refugee camp that got overrun when they destroyed the battalion in front of ours. When six hundred of Randaynia’s elite troops ran dry on ammo and offered to surrender to twelve hundred furious Guardsmen...we all agreed the official story would be that they hadn’t. Afterwards. I don’t know that any of us heard them say they surrendered or saw the white flag before...well, before it was too late to accept a surrender. We didn’t really make the decision, as much as…”

Beck nodded. “Momentum did. It wasn’t that you did something you knew was wrong because you were angry, you did something because you were so angry that you simply didn’t care whether it was wrong or not.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I can say it’s never happened to me again. War does things to people’s heads - so does trauma. You’re not turning into a bloodthirsty maniac because of that. Reflect on it, but don’t let the guilt overtake you.”

He shuddered. “Sounds cold.”

“It is. But it’s also what you have. And for what it’s worth, you aren’t likely to be in a situation where that’s your headspace again - and if you think you still don’t like your chances, you need to muster out.”

“No. I like being Guard. I like feeling like I’m protecting a country that cares about its people - I like taking bandits alive and bringing them to a court and letting the courts fix whatever went wrong.”

I nodded. “Then focus on that. Focus on what you love about the role, and focus on what it’ll require to keep doing it right.”

He blinked. “Wait, you asked if I could imagine myself doing it to anyone who didn’t need it simply because they pissed me off. Anyone I loved. The guy I did it to...how much of that conversation did you catch?”

I winced. “It was the friend of yours? From before…” I gestured at his collar scars.

“Yeah. It’s not that I regret it, again. Just...it felt so strange. Taking the life of someone I used to know. Be friends with. You know what that’s like?”

I thought of Eckhart. “Yeah. Yeah I do. Old friend of mine from my Guard days was the one who did the Yosemite arson almost three years ago. I’m the one who hunted him down. It does feel strange. I can’t really give you advice beyond to say that people change, that values change, and that if the ones most important to you put you on the opposite side of a battlefield from someone you used to like…” I shrugged. “Then you have to accept that. They made their choice, and it isn’t your right to force them to change. Anyone who picks up a weapon in service to anything makes a choice that they’re willing to kill and die for it. And if someone makes a choice to kill and die for a nation that tortured their old friends...I think they don’t get to complain when that friend made the choice to be on the other side of a battlefield - and act accordingly.” I could still see Eckhart, reeking of the smoke of one of the most sacred places in Arcadia, his eyes burning as he tried to match blades with me of all people, spewing insanity.

“You’re not a bad person, Beck. Oh, and I notice something. You haven’t mentioned your shieldmate’s name. Get used to saying it. To remembering. Trying to forget won’t work - and he wouldn’t want to be forgotten. My friend’s name was Lance. He always said that he thought with a name like that, he was all but destined to be a soldier.” Letting Lance’s name leave my lips for the first time in years felt strange. Even as I did it, I knew the advice I was giving was good - and that I needed to start following it.

Beck nodded, and pulled out a flask, pouring two little cups. “Mine’s was Jaime. Absent companions?”

“Absent companions.” We both drank, and I remembered making that same toast with Lance after our first few skirmishes. Beck made to stand and I briefly thought about touching his shoulder to get a few more words, but then if I’d been through what River said he had, and someone grabbed me suddenly, I’d take their hand off at the wrist. I coughed instead. 

He looked back at me. I said, quietly, “Talk to one of the chaplains, and to the therapists. And if you want any advice from someone who’s been there...please, write to me as well the next time you write to River. I’ll write back. I promise.” I hadn’t expected to say that, but this was River’s family - and I wanted to help any way I could.

He smiled. “Thanks, Ash. I’m going to go catch up with my little sister. And...if I may ask, what was your rank, before you left the Guard?”

A ghost of a smile slipped across my face. “I was a sergeant, by the end.” 

He nodded. “Somehow that doesn’t shock me.” 

**River**

Beck looked a little better when he caught up with me. “Hey, Riv. You were right. Your mentor does give good advice. How...how have you been doing? As an Inquisitor, I mean.”

I laughed. “Been a bit tricky. There’s some stuff inside the Inquisition that makes life difficult for Ash and I, but he’s got my back. And I’m learning fast. I feel better, these days, than I used to.” I let the old tone of voice I got when I wanted something from my brother creep into my tone.

“Now, seriously, what were you writing?”

He glowered down at me, and I had to say, military training and battle scars added something to it from when we were kids. If I hadn’t been dealing with Ash, it would have actually impressed me.

“Fine. It was a letter for Vanessa. Her and I have been talking more. Hoping to meet up with her next time I’m in Crests. She seemed okay with the idea last time we wrote.”

I blinked. He and Van were still close. I knew that, but…

“Are you...do you have a thing for Van?”

Beck shrugged in a way that I knew all too well. My older brother was lying. I understood why - Van had been pretty clear she didn’t want to see me. “It’s okay, Beck. I know you two are good for each other. If you two want to try something...go for it.”

He smiled, and hugged me. Once again, I felt the singular discomfort of being bear hugged by a man in the ceramic breastplate and rough leather armor of an Arcadian Guardsman. And I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.


	44. Deep Satisfied Breath While We Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and River talk about her upcoming Trials of Ascension, and River and Tyler go out.

**Ash**

I was tired of riding by the time we finally got back to the capital, though that had more to do with the weather - my hips always ached this time of year, and riding didn’t make it easy. As much as I loved being outside, I was actually looking forward to a bed. The soldiers had left us when we passed the garrison, and myself, Lucas, River and Violet were heading through the gates. I dismounted and carefully uncinched and lifted the saddle from Quincy’s back, gently lifting off the saddle blanket and leading her to a watering and food trough before I unbridled her. I hitched her up and knelt down to clean out her hooves and got the other grooming equipment out while I was at it.

“River, let’s take care of the horses.”

“Sure, Mentor.” She seemed distracted, and I knew full well why. Her Journeyer Trials were approaching, and pretty much everyone got antsy when those came up. That, and she was going to have a date with Tyler whenever I told her she was dismissed for the day - and I wasn’t going to keep her long.

“Hey, Mentor?”

“Yeah, Apprentice?”

“We’re only going to be in the capital for two weeks, right? Then we’ll be sent away, for one more mission, before I face the trials, right?”

I nodded, realizing that Violet had crept off - I had gotten her to agree not to go far, since I wanted her help in tutoring River ahead of time. If Belladonna was allowed to make this as hard as possible for River - and she was - then I was going to use the fact that there was no rule against other Mentor-Rank druids assisting in training to help even the odds. 

“Any advice?” 

“I’ll have more when we get closer, to be honest. The biggest piece I can give you is that no matter how much the Circle hierarchy may dislike you as a concept, the Inquisition is smaller than it should be - and with the exception of the Archdruid and one or two hardliners, no one hates you enough to actively want you to fail, given our personnel shortages - especially at the Journeyer and Adept level. Most of them will be neutral - and all three Circles send representatives to trials. Circle of Ecology Druids always want more capable Inquisitors because we provide the swords if someone goes around committing arson. At least one Faith Druid - and probably more - have a vested interest in you succeeding because they want to use you as a precedent for wider acceptance of naturalized Arcadians. On a balance, Belladonna might not be willing to piss off both Oakheart and Elmsman just to stop you short. Be confident.”

She nodded. “Right. That makes sense. So what would you say I need to worry about?”

“Honestly? You pick up ecological lessons remarkably well and I’ve seen you studying for it with Violet on the way back. I wouldn’t worry much about your Trial of Communion if you keep that up. The Trial of Love is a series of questioning drills where you have to figure out the right thing to do in accordance with Gaian teachings in a number of situations among human beings, the Trial of Judgement is a long moral argument against a person of the rank you’re being tested for, and you are far, far too capable to lose the Trial of Arms to anyone but me. Trial of Love is given and graded by Faith Circle, Communion by Ecology Circle, and Arms by the Inquisition. Judgement is always given and graded by the Circle you Apprenticed in, and that Circle’s Archdruid gets to choose your opponent. Worse yet, in the Inquisition, the Trial of Judgement is allowed to use interrogation tactics to unbalance the person being tested. In fact, they’re supposed to use interrogation techniques when you test to be an Adept. Keeping a cool head is part of being an Inquisitor. So I’d worry about Trial of Judgement more than anything else. And that’s not counting the fact that Belladonna gets to assign both the topic of argument and which side you have to take.”

She paused, looking grim. “Ash…could she ask me to argue against the Crusade?”

I blinked. “Possibly, but it isn’t likely. She’s not dumb enough to trade credibility for spite in front of the other Circles. I don’t know what she’ll do, but be ready for an unpleasant surprise.”

**River**

I took in Ash’s advice and thought about it. That made too much sense to ignore. I was going to be studying for a few months - and I still intended to make him make good on the promises he’d made to me about talking over past scars. But for now…I stood up and stretched. Ash nodded, speaking in a weary voice laced with affection for me, a tone of voice I would not have imagined him capable of two years ago. “Yes, kid, you can go find your journalistic deviant for physical affection, stress release, and emotional intimacy. I wish you a good evening. And not to sound like a parent but I expect you back in our quarters of the Sanctum by dawn.” There was a note of wry humor in his voice as I bit back a laugh.

“Alright, Ash.” I sprinted towards the bathhouse and set out something cute for myself - I didn’t mind the black leathers or the green tunics, but it was going to feel so good to be in something sewn to be cute rather than intimidating. And when I’d first been rescued I never would have imagined preferring thin dance shoes to the heavy riding and walking boots of the Inquisition, but now…

I enjoyed the hot water sluicing over my head - amazing what the solar tubes in the ceiling were able to heat up in such a short time. I brought out my razor, gently shaved myself - another thing I would never have imagined doing by choice after being rescued - and eagerly scrubbed myself down. Quickly dressing, combing out my hair and straightening up. I took a look at myself, brushed out strawberry blonde hair, a light blouse and a good looking shawl, and a skirt I’d bought some weeks before.

Then I headed to find Tyler - we were going to be talking today, going to that club they’d showed me…I rounded the corner and saw them in perhaps the most garish outfit I’d seen them in to date. Tyler’s hair had been dyed purple, with bright yellow streaking through it. Their outfit was a pencil skirt, enticingly short, with each individual pleat painted autumn colors in alternating patterns. Their torso was wreathed in a warm, violet blouse with a plunging neckline that left entirely too much to the imagination for my taste - though admittedly, I mostly felt that way because seeing them stride towards me in those….

“Tyler did you have those sandals made after seeing a few too many gladiator movies in the archives and felt like walking around like a conqueror, or did you actually find them somewhere?”

They walked over to me and pinned me to them in a hug and I smiled. “Good to see you again, hon. How were the roads?” I internally wondered if they were even capable of answering a question about their fashion choices but damn for the first time I understood why some people got turned on by groveling for their partners. 

“Not bad. Saw some interesting things, meant some interesting people.” Tyler smirked at me. 

“Yeah. I heard. I’ve been going around a while too, looking into some rumors, reporting.” That smirk was driving me nuts. Ash wasn’t wrong about them being a journalistic deviant - they had to know that I’d been in the field pining for them for the better part of seven scorching months and hadn’t gotten laid the whole time. Then again, they promised to be monogamous while they and I were dating. 

We started walking and I noticed her posture had changed and I was trying to avoid staring as she walked around like she was the new Steward-General, going to go walk into the halls of power and insult the Emperor of New England to his blue-blooded face, walk out and conquer the entire East Coast. It was incredibly hot, and dancing with her in the club they’’d shown me on our first date was a blast. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves back in their apartment, and they wasted no time in showing me that they had in fact, missed this too. 

I was definitely not going to make Ash’s curfew, and it absolutely did not matter.


	45. To Dig Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash starts digging on what happened with Eckhart back in chapter 3.

Ash

Training with River, helping her study - that was good enough. It was fun, even. She impressed me more every day. It was the missive I’d just gotten from Pike that had me worried. Pike had made Mentor rank the same week I had, and he and I…did not get along. We’d last worked together during the scouring of Salt Lake. We’d found records of the indigenous people who’d lived there before the Mormons, and I’d come scorching close to duelling Pike over the matter when he’d revealed that the wisdom of that tribe - one that, at the time, we had had reason to believe was actually gone, though I was given to understand that the Circle of Faith and the Stewardship of Foreign Relations had since made contact - was, in his opinion “outdated and not worth preserving another incomplete view of our goddess.” 

“Anyway, Ash, you’re supposed to be doing the interrogation.” The bastard’s handsome face looked smug, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Apparently, he’d discovered Eckhart’s source. The one that had told my former friend the lies that had led to him setting Yosemite ablaze. Pike wasn’t bad at putting together evidence - he was just an irredeemably narrow-minded asshole. Besides, his Apprentice would look good for being part of catching the source - where River wasn’t high enough ranked to be part of interrogation. And by dropping this in my lap, knowing anything this critical had to be interrogated thoroughly, which was going to subtract from my time helping River prepare for the Trials.

Still, River was with Violet today, and I figured there was at least a chance that if I was willing to crack hard enough and clever enough I could get the source to divulge where they’d found what they’d found and destroy whatever heretical records they’d shared. “Alright, where are they being kept?”

“Penance chamber in the Sanctum, obviously.” It was standard procedure, but the insufferable smirk on his face, coupled with the last word - and what I knew full well he’d said about my apprentice - made me want to take his jaw off. Then again, Salt Lake City hadn’t been the first time Pike and I had nearly come to blows. That I’d last been in the chamber performing the rituals of absolution before I’d assassinated Hyacinth was irrelevant. Probably.

“Understood.” I didn’t show any emotion - one never showed irritation or impatience to a jackal like Pike. I turned on my heel - grateful for the cold, as it gave me the excuse to wear the black cloak that billowed dramatically as I made an exit - and walked towards the Sanctum, face grim. It wasn’t as though I objected to having a word with the person who’d corrupted Eckhart - I was rather looking forward to hearing their explanation.

Walking down the stairs, I found the penitent cuffed to a chair. Sleight build, furtive brown eyes, grey streaks in her hair - and wearing a slightly frayed Archivist’s stole. I let my eyebrows rise as I made myself visible to them. “They arrested an Archivist? That had to be an overstep. The Stewardship of the Archives is so critical to Arcadia and the lot of you are supposed to be selected from people of character above reproach - I can’t believe even Pike would accuse an one of you.” I was trading on Pike’s reputation, a little. Methodical, but enough of a hardliner that he was known to cause trouble occasionally. I could also trade on my own, a little - cold and frightening though my reputation could be, I was also known for being thorough before I did anything - and my clashes with Pike were no secret.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” She looked up and saw me. “Oh, right. The Cinder of the War, the one who dealt with the arsonist. That’s who they sent to interrogate me. Of course. So, is this the part where you open up that cloak, show me all sorts of horrific tools?”

I blinked. “No? Torture doesn’t work. Everyone knows that. That kind of thing is just a rumor - no basis in reality.” I walked closer. “And I’m well aware of my own reputation. I look for the truth, as Inquisitors should. That’s what they look for in selection, you know. When little Initiates get siphoned into some circle or another, the ones who want to seek the truth are the ones who get pushed towards the Inquisition. And I admit to having questions. When I knew Robert during the war, he seemed quite the clear eyed rationalist, a devout Gaian. I knew he was into some more academic circles, and I just want to know what he found.” I sighed. “There are intranicene rivalries involved in my involvement in this case. I would love nothing more than to find that you were incidentally involved, at most. That Pike erred in a manner that could be used to quite thoroughly humiliate him.”

That was a level of honesty that would normally have been unthinkable in an interrogation, but in this case it seemed to be likely to convince the prisoner that she might have an unsuspected ally. She glanced at me.

“I believe that. But I don’t think you’ll believe what I have to say?”

“Flexible minds, archivist…” I trailed off, pondering if I wanted to simulate concern. I was of course, concerned by the lack of respect for an Archivist, and hoping that Pike had erred - but I did want to find out what had happened to my friend. All of that could be used to fuel quite the performance - but would she have believed it? Ash the War Cinder was a steely bastard devoid of feeling, and it might seem suspicious if I showed any to someone who knew about my reputation.

“Why is it so important to you to know the truth about Eckhart? Specifically?”

“Because…” Because he was my friend? No, she’d have questions about why I killed him then. Because I was told to find out? Too impersonal. Because I wanted the truth? Not enough….

“Because Eckhart said something to me. Something frightening, and horrifying, that he absolutely believed.” I let a flicker of emotion show as I spoke, trying to make it come across that something was cracking. “Something I…I need to know. It challenges everything. But that’s what I’m supposed to find out. What the truth is, behind everything. I need to know what Eckhart found, if you know. I need to know why Pike thinks you told him…why Pike thinks you told him that Gaia is a lie.” I let my voice break a little at the end, and it wasn’t an act, per se. The thought of it was truly horrifying.

Her eyes widened. “Is that what I’m being accused of? Is that why he said he did all that? I had hired Eckhart as a research assistant. I’d found a cache of old books in a hidden niche in the Arcata library. He and I went through them.”

“Why wouldn’t you have an Inquisitor - or even a Faith Druid - going through it with you? That’s supposed to be standard procedure for unknown material. Not ex-Guardsmen” Technically it was supposed to be the Inquisition but there were fewer than a hundred of us in all of Arcadia - and it wasn’t unheard of for reading material in hidden alcoves to be vetted by a Faith Druid if all of us were far afield from a discovery. Wasn’t supposed to happen, but everyone was willing to look the other way when it did, for the most part.

She blinked. “Because it’s so rare to get new information from the founding era. And I’d suspected for years there was some sort of secret the Inquisition were keeping quiet. I didn’t think it was from the Founding Era, but we have so few primary records of that time and they had to be going somewhere. Whether it was just lost to time or locked away in some secret Inquisition vault. I just…wanted the truth. We can’t understand the present if we don’t understand the past, and I wanted to make sure we had all the information before I gave things over to the Inquisition I might never get back. Whatever he and I found, we were supposed to keep it between us, until we knew what we’d be allowed to talk about. We figured on working in lesson plans of what we learned, keeping out sensitive information. I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen.” Her voice took on a pleading tone, but also one that sought to make me understand. I shrugged, nonchalantly. 

“I can believe that the Inquisition would keep secrets that might alarm you. There are…things amongst us, disagreements, we prefer not to have known to the wider public. But right now, you’re just confessing to improper records access.” I was tamping down my fear - the founder records I’d seen, even in the forbidden vault, tended to be fairly plain-spoken. The first Steward Caretaker, Steward-General, and Steward Educator were all known by historians for hating and disliking overly flowery jargon. There was little chance Eckhart merely misunderstood it.

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything! One day he just up and left, didn’t say a word.” That fit - bastard had been a reconnaissance expert. He was probably prone to doing things without much explanation, all the Condors tended to be. 

“I believe that. Did you do anything with the books?” 

“I…tried to figure out where he’d gone. I didn’t realize he’d gone wild until I heard the Inquisition was looking for him, and by then I’d already finished my research and stored the…” She trailed off and her eyes widened.

My eyes had locked on hers, and I felt the back of my throat itch with the need to scream and beg to know the truth. I hadn’t lied about that - even if the entire game up to this point had been one of getting her to think I was more interested in humiliating Pike than finding out who had spread whatever insanity Eckhart had been spewing. She gave a resigned sigh.

“Alright. You got me. You’re an Inquisitor. You want to know the truth, I get that. I felt the same way. So fine. I’ll tell you. The book I read? Was the Founder Stewards’ records of their debates about the creation of the Gaian Faith. It isn’t perfectly clear about whether it was an outright lie - one could have read it as them debating if they wanted an organized religion to keep people in line with the revelations of a genuine goddess, or wanted to merely preach it and hope for the best. It could be read as them inventing Gaia but that wasn’t how I interpreted it at all. They argued about what to call her, and doing so after an ancient earth deity of the same name, but it could well be that they didn’t have a name revealed and went with what they believed would be a suitable one from their studies of pre-Calamity history…But such a record…I have no desire to give it to the Inquisition. Not knowing that it was linked to Eckhart’s arson. I have no faith you grey-cloaked fanatics won’t burn it.” That sounded…

I almost fell to my knees in sheer relief. A group of the founders had discovered the Earth Mother and argued about how to spread word of Her or whether they wanted an organized religion or a wider spirituality. An Archivist had said as much. They were trained historians and literary analysts - if anyone would be able to say for sure what a journal like that meant, it was an Archivist. 

Then it occurred to me that she might be playing me false and a fresh wave of panic ripped through me.

“I’ll make you a deal. Show me this record. I swear to you, it will not burn. In fact, if you are willing to write your interpretation of it and add it as an addendum to the front of the book, so they know what they’re looking at, it might help clarify to some people Eckhart may have talked to.” That, and it would reduce any questions people had about the legitimacy of the Gaian religion.

The Archivist’s face looked relieved, and she nodded. “It will take some time to retrieve it. After he left, but before I was arrested, I stored it away somewhere secure.”

“Alright. Then we’ll untie you, go retrieve it, and we’ll give it a readover.”  
She nodded, and I paused. “Wait. I’m a fool. Tomorrow I’ll contact a Druid I trust in Faith Circle - we’ll go retrieve it, all three of us, and then if its as harmless as you say, you’ll be free to go.”

The Archivist looked at me. “Which Druid?”

“Violet Ibarra.”

She nodded, slowly. “You have my word. We’ll retrieve the record tomorrow.” I nodded. “You’ll be fed and watered tonight, and uncuffed. But you won’t leave the room until then. I’ll give orders you’re to be left alone.”

She nodded as I uncuffed her and left the room. My mind swirled with questions and worries, but I’d attend those tomorrow - and tonight, I still had time to work with River. I thought about it. Things were looking to improve.


	46. Questions Behind Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash finds out some history

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to some friends I lost years ago, ones who lent names (and in two cases, religious backgrounds) to the founders of Arcadia.

**Ash**

I approached Violet as River slept late last night. “There’s a lead on the origin of the Yosemite arsons, or the ideological manifesto that led Eckhart to it. But...it’s a founding era document about the Gaian Faith. I’m...I’m nervous.” The last two words came out clipped, as though even now my throat was going to slam down on any display of emotion to keep it from escaping. Still, Violet was paying attention.

“Wow. What did Eckhart say, when you fought him?”

“That Gaia was a lie. Invented to keep everyone in line. If the source is a founding document…”

She held up a hand. “Stop. I know you’re going to retrieve that book. I know you’re likely to read it, and I can’t stop you. But bring it back to me - new texts are supposed to be gone over by both the Inquisition and the Faith if it’s at that level anyway. Come to me with it, we’ll read it over.” I felt such a flood of relief at those words - I could still rely on someone here, I had a genuine friend after all. The kind of fire that could fall on both of us for even tiptoeing around the edges of protocol on something this big was obscene - but we needed to know.

I crept out of the Sanctum, and left a note for River. “Violet will be supervising this morning if I’m not back by the time you wake up.”

I retrieved the prisoner from the Penance Chamber, and she led me down a few backalleys, heading back to her Archives. I followed silently, though the librarian was clearly nervous. She opened a back passage, and beckoned me through. I briefly wondered if I was being led into a trap and kept her within sword reach. She wasn’t, though - she had decided to cooperate. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt like I was struggling to breathe - but I had to keep up the reputation everyone knew me by. It was one of the reasons she was cooperative at the moment. 

The building we were being led into was a sub-basement in the Library - probably one that only the Engineering Stewardship would know was here. Them and the librarian. Within that, there was a hidden door that opened into a little alcove. I felt like screaming with the hinges when she opened the door. The librarian looked at me, nervously as she gingerly handed over the book. 

“What’s the official story?” Her voice was quiet, raspy, and strangled with fear. 

“The official story is that you hired an ex-guardsman as a mercenary to keep you safe from bandits while you went and pilfered texts from a partially submerged zone of old Eureka, and you recovered what you could. He happened to skim through some of the texts and went wild after you left, you had no idea that he was that out of his mind. You didn’t contact the Inquisition because you were afraid of what we’d do, but you were fully cooperative and helped me figure out which texts he’d been reading, and turned it over to me. In my opinion, you made a series of mistakes that had tragic consequences, but you’re clear of any heresy charges, even if you’ll probably wind up being demoted from your current post as an Archivist for your delay in informing us.”

Her face fell. “Better than what I thought. I will miss the Archives...I’m likely to be reassigned to Educational aid, aren’t I?”

I shrugged. “Not my department. But I’ll put in a good word for you. I can do that.” I would have hated to have my work undone by a mistake. I took the book proffered and managed not to read it. I wound my way back towards the sanctum and finished filing the report about the prisoner - using lots of words like “cooperative” “legally within her rights to hire a guard for delving” and “most of the fault was Eckharts” with only the charge I wanted to leave being mentioned as “negligence in informing the Inquisition.”

I wanted answers - but I wasn’t going to neglect my duty. I found Violet and handed her the book. She nodded. “Right. Let’s read.” The title was already filling me with dread: Debates on the Foundation of the Gaian Faith (Do not open before year 540 AC). 

Well, Eckhart and our wayward librarian had certainly scorched up on basic instructions. But...why that year? I opened the book and...

_“Governments can be subverted with time, tide and greed. Religion isn’t above that, see: American Christianity. But Christianity was cryptic, the book was contradictory, and interpretation was too easy to make cut any particular way. We will have to do better. Marla, Tari, think you two could do better with that, craft a holy book without that? I think I can talk Alex into it - however much he distrusts the concept - says religion as a tool for control is both grim and of questionable. I understand that, but we saw what happens when mankind’s worst impulses are left uncontrolled? Say what you will for religion - as a concept and as a way of shaping culture its effect is entirely uncontroversial. But Alex raises an interesting point - we have no way of knowing someone won’t create a gospel of wealth knockoff. I’m putting my faith in the two of you to that end.” - Jake_

I shuddered at those words. It sounded as though one of the Founding Stewards, at minimum, had been acting in cynical motives. That Saint Marla and the First Archdruid were both in on a cynical gambit to control people through Faith. I glanced over at Violet to see she was smiling.

“We both know that Steward Davidson was a self-described “idealistic cynic.” His best known quote is that “Only three things are eternal in humanity: Love, hate, and stupidity. I place my bets on the third because I’m no fool, and the first because I refuse to give up hope.” This really isn’t out of character for him.”

I nodded. “But what it says about Marla and Tari…”

“It asks if they’re crafting a doctrine - it says nothing about whether they genuinely believe in it or not. You might well say that Jake was a cynic letting his friends codify something revealed to them in hopes of guiding things forward.”

I nodded. I took a breath and read the next missive.

_“I have some ideas. We saw the truth during the Calamity - we can’t live without the Earth. Whether people know Mother Nature by that name or by Gaia or by anything else is irrelevant, what they need to know is that nature is sacred and we have to be part of it. We cannot imagine ourselves separate from Her. Hard to deny that it’s a genuine revelation, either - it came with fire and floods and all the things revelations are supposed to, per other faiths. Still, visions of the future with the Earth lush and green again - I can believe in it. Maybe a vision from a goddess, maybe just an insight, but I’m not willing to decry it as false. I don’t know about making sure they can’t fuck anything up moving foreward - I’m glad you asked Tari to be involved, they’re a lot more studied on intersectionality than I am. We’ll figure it out. Any progress on you and Alex’s end on figuring out what to do to keep people from finding a way of fucking up by twisting the meanings of it?” - Marla_

So, Saint Marla genuinely believed. I was starting to feel better - though it looked like the First Archdruid might have taken that post to help draft the Book of Love more than anything else. Violet looked at me and I glanced back. “Some of them believed, you think?”

“I am still not convinced that Davidson didn’t, to be honest. Just...differently. At any rate, just keep going.” I was feeling a little steadier.

_“Damnit, Melody, Erryn, I wish you’d been at the meeting today. You should have seen the suggestion that Alex and your boy came up with. They want to create two other circles - one that’s basically just ecologists given legal authority via religion - actually that one isn’t too bad, and both Marla and I actually agree. But their suggestion to prevent some gospel of wealth 2: Gaian Boogaloo...they want to create a fucking INQUISITION with the right to charge people trying it with heresy - which comes with prison sentences. I thought Jake hated the church he grew up in but oh, damn, I was wrong about that. And his suggestion about churches, synagogues, mosques, all that...it’s grim. And to make matters worse, Alex agrees with him. This is what we get for leaving an ex-catholic and an ex-muslim with chips on their shoulders to sort out how to keep religion from going wrong. I still can’t believe they want to enforce a new one, but I guess it isn’t too shocking. Scorching Wastes, though. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. We’ll have to argue with them over it tomorrow, but…hell, you two. I miss the Jake that referred to Tumblr culture as a warning sign of leftwing authoritarianism as “a problem that’ll happen once right-wing authoritarianism goes away - the impulses towards control are too strong for it not to.” Now he’s become the thing he was nervous about enabling. And Alex, who used say all the time how important it was that people have the room to figure out what they believe without being hurt…Melody, hon, I know it’s awkward to ask you to side with one lover over another but I need help with this.” - Tari._

_“Jake’s always been a cynic, but I never thought it was going to go this far. I love the man but fucking hell, Tari, I’m with you on this. I don’t have his or Alex’s past with religion, but I’m not interested in a damn theocracy. Gaianism is well and good, and I like the idea of a goddess I can believe in, but...How the fuck is it going to be enforced with the Inquisition - we going to attend church at swordpoint? Best of luck getting Erynn to vote either way though. She’s much more interested in the secular governments, and she’s likely to go with whatever she thinks will do right by her pet projects re: social services.” - Melody._

I shuddered. It was well known that the concept of the Inquisition had been a matter of debate amongst the founders. And I’d known they were all friends before then. But what the fuck was Tumblr? I hadn’t known that Davidson used to be a Catholic, or that Alex had been a Muslim. That was interesting. They’d abandoned their old faiths completely, apparently. Turned on them. Violet looked like she wanted to cry. “They were friends. And...I wonder what this did to them. They must have...this had to be hard.” I was busy wondering about the life and times of people who had built arcadia in their thirties. 

_“The Inquisition is happening. I’m glad my lovers, and my metamour, raised such excellent points about the issues with the concept - heresy has to be strictly defined. I’m not proud of this but I don’t see better solutions. Tari still hasn’t spoken to me, and they’ve been abundantly clear that the Faith will be a more liberal institution, and that it’ll have control over the Inquisition. I can’t argue with that. The narrower the Inquisition’s power, the better. Gaianism is going to be the way forward - and if anything is sacred, it’s the Earth - but I’m sick to my stomach at the idea of enabling theocratic paramilitary forces. But it’s better than this ever happening again.” - Jake_

_“A few places of worship can be left as museums - just because I have nothing but distrust of my childhood faith, and Jake has outright hate for his, doesn’t mean some people didn’t find something good there. We shouldn’t destroy all trace of them. Marla’s not happy with us either. But things are happening. I’m reviewing the drafts of the Books of Love and Communion - at least the writings of them. There’s a group of ecology PhD students looking over the technical aspects of the latter. I like our chances. Maybe we have gotten ahead of this one. I hate the idea of a theocracy as much as Tari - more, even, but we’re all working on a constitution that can balance the religious and secular aspects. Maybe we’ll manage it.” - Alex_

Violet slammed the book shut. “Yeah. Some of them were liars. Some of them were honest. They came to the right conclusions, I think, even if some came to it for cynical reasons.” I felt differently. Half of the people who’d created the faith thought my job was a necessary evil and the idea of my career made them sick. The Inquisition would never let this book see the light of day. I shoved it back at Violet and shook my head. “Keep it. If this book goes to the Inquisition, it’ll vanish. I...I trust you. But I want to know...are we crazy? Is Arcadia built on a lie, do you think?”

She shook her head. “I’ll read more of it. But I don’t think so. We see a truth, even if some of the Founders only saw that truth as a means to an end. Tell me you remember civics class: The Founders were mortal, same as the rest of us. They were decent people doing what they believed was best for the world, but they were just as fallible as everyone else. You know how much they insisted on making sure that was well known. They might have misunderstood visions, but at the end of the day, they believed in all the right things. But if that doesn’t satisfy you, Ash...You’re an Inquisitor. Inquire with yourself. Figure out what you believe. Do you think it matters how we heard of Gaia, or why they told us of her? Do you think it matters if they thought they were lying? Or is what matters the things they taught, the things She teaches? Figure it out. Your apprentice should be awake soon.” She left the sanctum, slipping the book into her pack.

And I realized I was more confused than ever.


	47. Scars of the Past

**River**

“So…I am a little confused on this. What does the Trial of Judgement entail, specifically? Do I have to roleplay out a scenario, or am I simply asked a question about how I’d handle one, or…?”

“Usually it’s a question offered to you by the Archdruid about something related to your duties, one with no clear answer. Your mentor, a few other Druids, and the Archdruid all vote on whether or not you pass.” Ash seemed relaxed. “Belladonna might be set against you, and I promise Pike is, but most of them don’t have strong feelings - they’ll give you a fair assessment. Some of them will do so for political reasons, namely that there’s been blood brewing between me and Pike for a long time and they aren’t going to risk crossing either of us by being clearly biased, or because they aren’t sure how you being in the Inquisition will work out long term and don’t want to be caught hitching their star to an obviously faulty wagon - nor betting future ease of life against a rising star.”

That was strangely reassuring. I was curious why Belladonna was so desperate to see me go down, given that. If Ash and this Pike guy - who’d I’d yet to meet but had looked up, and it was safe to say that he and Ash were neck and neck for successful missions, leagues ahead of everyone else - wouldn’t it be in Belladonna’s best interests to avoid alienating either of her most experienced senior Inquisitors by simply playing neutral? 

I had at this point, met Pike’s Apprentice, himself preparing for his Trials, and as best I could tell, he was a decent guy. His name was Reed, and he was a sandy-haired little twink who seemed to have no personal issue with me. He often offered me tea when he went to get some on study breaks - the two of us often sharing the Sanctum’s library - but would often throw in some snide remark about how he doubted I could appreciate proper tea, but he’d offer anyway. The fact that he found something about me to bitch about every day and none of it was significant started as annoying and became mildly funny. After hearing what I internally dubbed complaint #12, regarding the quote “playfully unprofessional” way I kept my hair for an Inquisitor. It seemed almost scripted - he was bad at being an asshole. Honestly if he wasn’t so desperate to try I would have said he was cute - not Tyler-cute, not the kind of cute I wanted to get into bed with, but certainly with a degree of aesthetic appeal.

Though what I had heard of Pike wasn’t great…apparently Violet had had to get Ash to challenge him to a duel to get him to back down on arguing for a suppression of indigenous faiths with practices that the Circle of Inquisition found questionable - mostly in their use of controlled fire to prevent larger wildfires. Ash had had some trepidations, to hear him tell it, but Violet had pointed out that those people had inhabited the region for centuries and managed it well using the methods they did, and then-Adept Ash had made his challenge. Publicly. 

Which also explained Violet’s comments of Ash being a popular Inquisitor amongst Native American tribes. 

But Reed was nice, if suspicious. Offered to grab tea for me when he left the study to grab some for himself, took tea I offered when I did the same. If he could stop himself from muttering about radicals in the Inquisition I would probably have said he was cute. Not Tyler-level cute, but cute. 

“So…Ash. I wanted to ask. The story I’ve heard about why you’re…so distant, is that it was how you came back from the war, and isolation among the Inquisition hasn’t helped. But I heard from your adoptive mom, you were always a little more reserved.”

Ash let out a derisive snort. “Willow would know. She did what she could but…Put this way. I was in her top five priorities, for sure. I’m pretty sure I made the top three. I know I was never priority one. Which, generally speaking, a ten year old should be if you’re raising them.” The words came out lightly, and I couldn’t help but wince as he continued. “I shouldn’t complain, really. It wasn’t as though I was neglected, abused, or went through anything like what you and your brother did. It just…leaves someone rather used to their own company, is all. Then Lance and I became friends when I enlisted, and I finally had a person I could open up to, and he…well, you know. Violet is starting to grow on me more though.”

I nodded. I could believe that. These days I saw Ash a lot more for what he was. A battle-scarred, hidebound, honorable, cynical, vaguely caring, and bitterly, poisonously lonely man. He spoke after a pause. “So. You said you wanted me to understand more about where you come from. I…don’t really know where to start.” 

“Neither do I. You know that Beck and I had much, much worse experiences than you had, but we also had much better ones - with both sets of parents, despite what I now know scorching that up with the first set. We were the center of everything for them. We were loved, and we knew it the way we knew the sun rises and the way the sailors the Pamela’s lived by knew the North Star could guide them. You saw the place the Pamelas had, where all our stuff was. I know that the house Beck and were little in burned down during the war but if you’d seen the inside of it before…all that…you’d have seen the same thing there. You also stormed the house where Beck and I were abused, and the warehouses where we were processed, so you have some idea of how bad the points in between those things were. Put this way: I was either the top priority in a good way, or a very bad way, for most of my life. I know from experience that I’d rather have someone deliberately withhold food than forget to feed me.” I remembered that feeling. “I also…you make a lot more sense, knowing that you always felt like someone’s third or fourth priority.” 

Ash shrugged a bit. “I suppose. We did say we were going to start talking more about the past so I could figure you out a little better, as well.” I glowered. My heart was going out to the close-lipped bastard and he was desperately trying to push it away.

“Third or fourth priority, including your own, apparently.” Ash gave me a tiny smile of acknowledgement, but showed no sign that he intended to change that any time soon. 

“Makes sense, though. You’re my Apprentice, at least for now. And end of the day, if a mission is going badly, you have people to get back to, and I don’t. Making sure you get out is the sensible choice as well as the moral one. But fine.” He took on a slightly mocking air. “I promise I will always be in my own top two priorities. I’m not willing to budge on you being number one for a few days at least, though.”

“Scorch you, Ash. You’re being obstinate in ways you always tell me not to be.”

I got the number 2 glower that time - the one I’d seen those of weaker nerves actually flinch from. It didn’t do anything to me, mostly because of exposure when Ash wanted to teach me something and I didn’t feel like learning. “Alright. Executive decision. The Pamelas sent me a message via the Archival communications network. After I pass my trials, they’re coming up to celebrate with me. And you’re not going to creep off to do “Mentor-level inquisitor things” while they’re here. You’re going to join us. They want to talk to you more anyway.”

The look of sudden tension on Ash’s face would have been funny if it weren’t so damn sad. Then, slowly, he nodded. And promptly turned the tables on me. “Oh, and i wanted to ask. Were you going to introduce them to Tyler while they’re in the Capital?”

I flushed. I’d never brought home a boy before. Or a girl. Or a nonbinary person. Uh… “I guess so, yeah. Tyler’s wanted to meet my family for a while. Says I should be proud of that, since they normally vanish when the phrase “meet my family” comes up. I should introduce them, yeah…” I felt my face blushing, and I saw Ash’s calm smile. That was it. This man was getting surrounded by my family and he could deal with their worried affection and all the confusion it would cause him. Let the bastard sweat it out.


	48. Trial of Communion

**River**

The day had finally come. I had been reading up for months, and was now going to be riding out to one of the groves in the woods where a Circle Ecology druid would be giving me a Trial on my knowledge of communion with Gaia. Of all the trials, this was second only to the Trial of Judgement in my concerns. I instinctively understood the Book of Love, and the Trial of Arms posed no challenge, but the more scientific aspects of the Communion Theology was a challenge for me. Ash wasn’t allowed to accompany me for this - this was exclusively the domain of the Circle of Ecology. 

Reed, however, was coming with me. Because of his own stricter outlook, he wore the light grey undershirt and the riding pants common to the Inquisition. He glanced up and down me and rolled his eyes and the heavier outfit I was wearing. Then, almost grudgingly, he spoke. “May Gaia grant us grace.” His tone indicated that he did it only because he thought he was expected to - but no one actually needed to say anything before one of these Trials. It wasn’t even tradition to do so. Reed, in other words, was behaving in the typical manner of mixed messages - I was an annoyance who had no business being here that he clearly wanted to at least be polite to, even if he didn’t think I deserved it.

The Mentor-rank Druid we were meeting was a stolid, unimaginitive man who forewent boots altogether and waved with wide, callused hands with sturdy, short fingers. He had a wide, slight smile. “So it’s Inquisition kids I’ll be testing today.” He pulled a short paper from his pocket. “Apprentices of Pike Thompson and Ash Roanoake.” He glanced at the tree behind him and I swore I heard him mutter, “what did I do to get caught between those two?” 

Turning back to us, he spoke. “First, this grove has been carefully examined. I want you two to identify every living thing in it. You are both allowed to seek one another’s advice - we all work together in caring for Gaia, and in learning of her. When you’re done, we’ll be testing you on the other habitats in Arcadia.” Reed and I both glanced at each other, Reed muttering irritably.

I thought, with a twist of my lips, that it would be most unlikely that either of us would be asking each other’s advice. 

“Mind you, if I see one of you with an answer the other didn’t have, the one too stupid or proud to ask for help will be failing today.” The man giving us our judgement was speaking from behind us. 

I did not care for that caveat.

I quickly identified the trees, most of the ferns, even the insects and slugs...Reed seemed to be fumbling a bit with the insects, and I quickly scampered over to the little creek where I was to test on the benthic life...and promptly realized I had absolutely no idea what that snail was. It was very clearly not a common garden snail, and…

Scorch me. Reed was still staring at a fern and trying to put together what he was doing with the plant life. Maybe…

“River. I’m...willing to make a trade. I can walk you through benthic life - ironic though I find your confusion given your name - if you help me with the botany. Please.” 

I smiled, desperately trying to pretend as though I hadn’t been mere seconds from asking the same thing. “Agreed. And you don’t get to talk about irony on that, Reed.”

He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and nodded. “That’s a bronzeshell, and the other is a mudsnail, which is almost certainly going to come up as our next project because they’re virulently invasive to the point that not even the apocalypse was able to kill them, and regularly destroy other species - many ecology druids in the river system have been trying to wipe them out for years. They’re miserable little bastards - reproduce asexually and overrun entire ecosystems. They were brought here about sixty years before the Calamity by some idiot who wasn’t thinking, and it was a huge project to try to stop them from destroying the ecosystem - and with the Calamity it came really close.” I was waiting for him to drop in a dig about that being the reason things shouldn’t be in places where they didn’t belong, but he shrugged.

“Amazing how much damage can come from mistakes. Guess that’s the reason for our job.” He’d...just called it our job. Like I had as much business doing it as he did. Was Reed...actually not a dick?

“Now, What. Is this fern.”

I smiled. “It’s a baby vine maple, not a fern.”

He blinked. “Thank you. I’ll…” He mumbled and we finished out the write up. We picked up the mud snail and quickly handed it over to the Druid. “Good, by the way. Taking care of that thing was part of the test. If you recognized the problem but didn’t take action…”

I nodded, and Reed winced. The older man threw us a book. Reed and I glanced at each other as we looked at it. “Work together through this?”

Reed nodded.

The test wasn’t brutally hard - working together, we got through the test, talking back and forth quickly. I had no idea if Ash and Pike were going to be alright with this, but from everything I heard one of them would eventually kill the other so it wasn’t likely to matter for most of our careers. If Reed was going to get the stick out of his ass, I suspected we could at least be friends. “Reed, this?”

He identified it. I pushed him on a few of the plants in the Reclamation, but I’d never been to Frostreach, and I was pretty lost on that part of the test without him. 

“Alright. Alright. We’ve got this. No promises on the rest of the Trials.”

I rolled my eyes. “Obviously.”

It was several hours before Mentor Cotton pronounced us as having passed, but Reed and I were pretty satisfied. At the very least, we’d established a truce - if we were going to show each other up, we both preferred it be in the field, not tests.

Pike smiled when he and Ash arrived as Cotton told him that the two of us had passed - though his face took on a darker tone when told we’d worked together. Ash received the news with the same impassive face he always had. “I’ll teach you more about river life next time.” 

Reed winced. Was he bothered that much by the idea of me actually having no need for him?

Whatever, the sneer on the otherwise handsome face of Pike was annoying me - Ash merely looked proud of me, now. He looked at Reed, as though gaining a new measure of the kid, then turned aside. Reed could wonder what that meant, I knew it meant he’d filed away his thoughts. 

As I turned to go, Reed spoke. “River. Good luck tomorrow.” He gave me an earnest grin, and the sandy-haired little shit looked so genuine for a moment I almost wanted to bump a fist with him in a quick salute, before he forced a sneer onto his face and added, “You’ll need it.” 

Way to ruin the moment. This was starting to feel like a lovely story about two people becoming friends despite trying circumstances and you just had to spoil it. Jackass. I rolled my eyes. “Save it for yourself.”

Ash glowered over his shoulder at Pike.

“Tell me, Cinder, do you really think your Apprentice will hold up in a Trial of Love, where she comes from? Or a Trial of Judgement, given everything?”

Ash’s voice could have slashed diamonds and frozen our swords to shattering. “Pike. Never bet against my apprentice.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re very frightening, the best blade in Arcadia, all that. Some day you and I will clash, when Violet isn’t there to try to talk us down. And on that day the two best swords in the country will cross.”

“Already happened. You were only second-best until I trained River. As to us fighting - someday, yes. And you will, briefly, miss Violet.”

Pike smiled. “Bold words for a madman with a limp.”

I wanted to deck this guy. I had heard less than a hundred words from him and I already understood why Ash wanted to kill him.

Reed was flushing a bit, and looked almost apologetically at me and Ash.

Ash was already turning to go. “I’d say you need my bad hip to make it a fair fight - but it’s not like you could be much of a match even then.”

I laughed. It was probably the worst thing I could have done, and Pike’s eyes locked on me with an almost furious intensity. “I look forward to watching the rest of your Ascent, if your mentor speaks so highly of you.”

“There should be plenty to watch. I look forward to knowing Reed better. Once he gets the pike out of his ass.”

That was probably beneath me, but you know what? I was starting to realize that “stick” wasn’t really the problem with Reed.

When we went back to the Sanctum, Ash burst out laughing.


	49. Trial of Faith, Trial of Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trials continue, River and Reed continue to bond, duels have predictable outcomes.

**River**

My Trial of Faith began early in the morning. Reed and I filed towards the Circle of Faith sanctum, with Pike and Ash in tow, glowering at each other with barely restrained hate. I knew that they’d fought over some of the tribes in the Malpais region of Utah, with Ash acting on Violet’s behest, and that Pike had cost Ash a good deal of his reputation in an investigation that Ash had written off by wrapping it up quickly, and Ash had gotten his payback in discrediting the Ultraorthodox in the Faith Circle, but damn. Those two absolutely hated each other.

I smiled with relief seeing Violet and two of her fellow Faith druids at the door. Pike glowered at Violet, and she merely smiled sweetly at Reed and I, nodding at Pike and Ash in an almost dismissive way. Another Druid glanced at Ash with similar distaste and I couldn’t help but wonder why it seemed to be that my Mentor either made alliances with or royally pissed off everyone he ever met. 

We were ushered inside, and sat down - there were a few Faith Apprentices in here, as well. Violet glanced among us, and quickly began speaking. “Right. We’re going to go through a series of exercises about your job, with a simple written test on what the Book of Love says, followed by a more complex oral argument amongst you about the correct solution to a problem I come up with. For the record, the problem isn’t actually one with a definitive solution - but you should be coming up with a solution consistent with the teachings of the Book of Love.” She passed out the tests and the pens, and I began looking it over.

The first few questions were easy to answer. The next few were a little harder, by the time I got to eleven out of twenty I was legitimately sure Violet had cooked up a paradox on purpose. I thought about it, and started going with my best guess, and the next few were only moderately easier. The essay I was fairly comfortable in, and it took me a bit to finish writing it up. By the time I finished, pretty much only Reed and I had actually finished - though in fairness, the Faith Druids actually had to score higher than we did to pass the Trial of Love. 

Violet called my name and Reeds. “You two are going first in this. Then I’ll do the Faith Apprentices. Especially since you two are Inquisitors the argument is a bit different. Say, for the sake of argument, you’re arresting a heretic. For this one, we’ll say they’re a Malthusian. Not severe enough to be named a Nihilon, for the record. Just enough to raise alarm bells arguing with significant money that Arcadia needs to use fewer resources on refugees and the impoverished. They drew a blade on you when you first arrived but you’re a superb blade so disarming them was child’s play, and you’ve managed to restrain them. How do you handle it?”

I paused. I knew what Ash had done a few months ago, but that was also something he hadn’t had much of a choice on, even if I had agreed with it. 

Reed was also thinking about it. “Has the perpetrator actually harmed anyone? For that matter, have they incited to violence against anyone, damaged the Caretaker Stewardship’s ability to take care of people?”

“For the purposes of this exercise, no on the first, unprovable on the second, and in no direct or measurable way on the third, though you have reasonable suspicion that they may have been one of the reasons the donations to Stewardship and Faith projects are doing worse.” I nodded. 

“It seems to me like the responsible solution would be to sit him down, explain the cause for the laws, show him the damage he’s doing. He’d have to be charged, but just talking isn’t….”

I didn’t think that was quite right. “Wait, what status does he have? A scrap recycler saying that stuff isn’t quite the same as a Guard officer, Senator, Stewardship official, or similar. What’s his profession?”

Reed blinked, then, grudgingly, nodded. “She’s right.” 

Violet nodded. “Right. That’s a good question. For your purposes he’s a low-level member of a township’s Stewardship Administrata, so he has a platform within that town, but that region’s Guard contingent does not take orders from him and he isn’t really setting policy as much as helping implement it.”

Honestly I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that. Much less dangerous than Hyacinth, but more than if it was a common scrap worker or similar. Reed seemed to have an answer. “I’d say you take him aside, explain that he’s violated the law and committed Malthusian heresy, get him to a Circle of Faith or Caretaker Stewardship training about the things they do, the people they help, to get some empathy and put a human face on what he’s writing off, then quietly lean on him to publicly recant, step down from his position. Don’t give him any official charges if you can avoid it - leads to political headaches like Senator Hyacinth made - but get him out of his platform and probably lean on him to start repairing the damage he’s done with those groups.” 

I blinked. That was a really excellent answer, and I probably wouldn’t have given one quite as complete. Reed had a good head for this, I’d need to remember that. I blinked and said, “Honestly, I don’t think I’ll be able to one-up that.”

Violet shook her head. “I hope not, that’s the best answer I’ve gotten when I ask that question. He passes for having it. You pass if you can tell me why that’s the best answer.”

I thought about it. “The first step seems obvious. You explain what he’s done so he understands why you’re there.” Reed scoffed a bit but I was perfectly aware I was stalling for time - Violet seemed to know it too. “You take him to a Circle of Faith or Caretaker Stewardship installation for training because absent real monsters or alarming levels of indoctrination, human beings don’t really see other human beings suffering and in need, in a very personal, up-close and visual way without wanting to do something about it instead of writing it off. There’s a reason the movement to declare the Crusade didn’t start til escaped or manumitted slaves came over and shared their stories, after all. If that re-wires him, great, he’s going to do better and we don’t really need to slam him with a proper heresy charge, but showing that we’re prepared to by getting him out of office will put the fear of Gaia into him. If compassion won’t move him, being afraid of the consequences of callousness will, and keeping him out of office prevents him from using that platform to make other people turn colder as well. Getting him to work for either of the aforementioned groups will give him more chances to learn as well as undoing the damage he’s done, which does more good for both Arcadia as a whole than branding him as a heretic would - especially if he’s actually good at his job and still has skills that can be useful.”

Violet nodded. “Good. You two understand your job, you understand the point of the Inquisition, where the Inquisition’s hand should be felt and where it should be stayed - and you may quote me on this to your Mentors, I’d love them to take a hint on that from the two of you. Now, I have to check in on the Faith Circle apprentices, so you two should consider yourselves as having passed the Trial of Love.”

We walked back out, and I saw Reed smiling. “That was…pretty good. You spotted a reason in there I hadn’t thought of while I was figuring it out.”

I didn’t want to say anything nice back. But that was the first genuinely nice thing he’d said to me. Scorch it, obligations. “I wouldn’t have thought of the solution that quickly, so…good work as well.”

We exited the doors of the Sanctum to find that Ash and Pike quite literally had not moved from where we’d left them an hour and a half ago, and were decidedly not looking at each other so much as near each other. Reed and I swapped a glance that somehow managed to be a nonverbal promise that when we were journeyers we were going to try to figure out the full story of why those two hated each other this much. 

We got two hours for lunch and stretching before the Trial of Arms. “Think I can do it?”

Ash chuckled. “I would be amazed if you couldn’t. Belladonna is going to be there because she always is at Inquisition Ascension Trials - because, you know, there’s rarely more than twenty apprentices at any given time - but her chance of screwing you is Judgement, not Arms. You’ll do fine at this. And since you seem to be slowly getting Reed to tolerate our existence -”

“My existence. He’s probably heard too much about you from his Mentor to be there with you yet.” I couldn’t resist the shot at maybe getting Ash to explain this bizarre level of hatred.

I was unsurprised when I had no such luck but figured it was worth a shot as he replied, “Right, of course. I should say that with both you and he shortly being able to operate more independently, he’s almost certainly going to pass as well - he’s not you, and Pike isn’t me, but neither of them are short of excellent. You’ll both do fine in this one. I’ll still be watching. Oh, and it may interest you to know I actually did go to the Archives while you were in there - your parents are in fact arriving tonight. Storm on the roads slowed them down, or they’d have been here this morning, but they’ll be here to celebrate. Reed’s are coming too, I think I heard Pike mention. You lot pick the restaurant - I will go so far as to put aside my own rivalries if Pike takes Reed’s family to the same one. Tonight’s your night.”

I couldn’t stop laughing. We ate quickly, and I began stretching, running through a quick set of forms with my sword. Trial of Arms was done with the wooden sparring swords for obvious reasons, and I wanted to get comfortable and ready. I felt totally relaxed. I walked to the field and saw Reed warmed up as well - he seemed to favor a straight, double-edged blade over my katana, but he seemed quite comfortable with it. I glanced at those who’d come to watch and saw a flash of bright, primary and clashing colors that I knew meant that Tyler was here to watch me kick some ass.

I watched Reed’s match first, and noticed that Belladonna was only barely paying attention. Reed’s opponent was good, but the younger man was faster - stepping around, taking advantage of his sword’s reach and durability, midblading a few times to add a bit of leverage to a parry, and then, in a twist I couldn’t help but admire, using that same leverage to throw his opponent’s sword outside of an effective guard position with a twist of his hips before delivering a quick lunge to end the match. It would have been a maneuver that broke my katana, and I idly wondered if I’d been wrong to ignore Ash when he said that my weapon of choice had some problems with durability.

Then again, as I took my position, and took a few light, easy swings with it, I remembered that the ergonomics of it as a slashing weapon made up for it. My opponent gave a quick fencer salute, then raced in for the fight. I snapped my sword up into a basic parry, already moving to sidestep and twist his blade around to deliver an uppercut to his midsection. To his credit, he managed to avoid that and riposte at me. Way too slow - I wondered, as I brushed the strike aside and swept my own weapon around for a high attack, if Ash hadn’t massively overprepared me for these tests for the rest of my career. The other guy managed to get his blade into position to parry that before I gave a slight twist and dropped the blade almost straight down in a move that would have taken his arm off an inch below the shoulder had we been using real blades - and did cause him to drop his sparring sword - before flicking the sword to his throat as the crowd cheered me as they’d been cheering Reed a few minutes ago. 

I heard Ash mutter, over the din, somehow, “And just like that, the most predictable Trial of Arms ever has concluded.” Belladonna was clapping, quietly, and barely seemed annoyed that I’d passed - she didn’t seem annoyed at all. She quickly came over, smiling a polite smile, and raised both Reed’s and my sword arms above our heads.

“You’ve passed. Well done, both of you.” 

I knew this would end this way - but it still felt good. I had the rest of the day off before my Trial of Judgement tomorrow - and this evening, I’d be seeing my family. That would be good.

And, I saw as Tyler stepped out of the crowd, I was going to be explaining them to my family as well. Ash followed my gaze and smiled. “Yes, the physical manifestation of garish fashion as a concept is also allowed to come.”


	50. Meeting the Pamelas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an in-universe celebration chapter, and that’s lovely. Out of universe, writing it was my celebration of being done with all the annoying bullshit this semester as of roughly a month before it posted. Also, because much like our favorite horny reporter who gets their first POV 50 chapters into this fucking story, I believe in taking my time, and we are now going to begin seeing POVs that are NOT only Ash and River. Won’t that be fun?

**River**

My family were coming to see me, and I had one Trial to go before I was a Journeyer. Then Ash and I would be operating as separate agents for a while, brought together for higher-level missions like the ones he’d done on Hyacinth or similar - things a Journeyer couldn’t do alone and an Apprentice couldn’t be brought on at all. I realized, with some degree of nervousness, that I wasn’t sure how I felt about the idea of roaming the land alone.

I was taking care of Daisy and realized, all at once, how much she’d grown since I’d first picked her out as the horse that would carry me for most of my career. She was stronger and sleeker than she’d been two years ago and I realized that...I looked at my arms. I was a lot stronger than I had been two years ago as well. There were muscles there hadn’t been. I was more confident than I had been. I chuckled a little. Couldn’t get too far ahead of myself - I had one more Trial to go, and it was the one I was nervous about. I brushed out Daisy, fed her, and watered her before guiding her to the stable. The sun was going down as I went and showered - washed my hair, scrubbed myself clean, and toweled off. I quickly changed into a dark green and gold-trimmed blouse, complete with a warm shawl that could be clasped around my shoulders to keep me warm if I needed, and pulled on a long, warm skirt of a similar color scheme. I combed out my hair until it worked, and smiled at myself in a mirror. Hopefully, Tyler would like the look.

I walked out and saw that Ash was similarly outfitted in an Inquisition dress tunic - rather tellingly, he hadn’t thought to procure himself a unique wardrobe. I swore to myself that Ash would learn to be a person before he died. He nodded at me. “So, your parents should be arriving within the hour, right? And the physical manifestation of all that escapes me about the human experience, as well, in the next few minutes?”

I nodded. “And Tyler…” I looked over as a flash of extraordinary bright color approached me and tackle hugged me. “Sweetie, I love you I am so nervous to meet your parents are you sure they’ll like me no one’s ever had me meet their parents before I don’t know how to respond to it…”

That was the fastest I’d ever heard Tyler talk, so I just hugged them back. “Yeah, Tyler. My parents will be fine with you. Even Ash has learned a degree of affection for you even if he…”

Ash coughed. “Has fundamentally no idea of how you work, because you function on a profoundly different set of principles than I do. But you make my apprentice happy and you seem to be a decent person, so…” He nodded. 

“See, and he’s actually an excellent judge of character. You’ll be fine. If you’re worried…” I trailed off and suddenly noticed that Tyler had dressed much more conservatively than usual - by which I meant they had sleeves. And a skirt that touched the tops of their knees. And simpler earrings. Yes, the outfit was still bright, primary colors, but...what happened?”

“Tyler...you know you don’t have to hide your usual flamboyance for my family, right?”

They gave a brief, nervous smile. “I don’t think so but I think I’d rather play safe than sorry. I love showing off, but you’re the first person who’s let me meet their parents - to be fair, most of my partners to date have been brief relationships but still. I want to do it right.”

I nodded. “I’ve mentioned your flamboyance, but if you’re more comfortable like this…” 

They nodded. “For now...sure. I’ll be happy to see them.” Ash was still and looking a bit awkward. 

“The Pamelas are almost alarmingly sweet,” he said, quietly. “I really, really, wouldn’t worry. They weren’t alarmed to have me show up, I doubt they’ll care that their daughter is spending time with you.”

I simply sat down next to Tyler and waited at the inn my family said they’d be staying in until they arrived, and when they did, I ran up to them. My mom gave me a tight hug, and my dad shook hands with Ash, before letting go of my steely mentor and hugging me even more tightly than my mom had. “You guys know I’ve got one Trial to go, right?”

“We know. You’re not the only one who’s been writing. Ash promised to keep us informed, remember?” My surprise must have shown on my face and they laughed. “You said your mentor always keeps his word. Did you think that was only for you?”

Ash shrugged. “I explained what’s going on to the degree that would be safe if it was intercepted. Now, all of you, River wanted to eat at the Blazing Boar, and as it happens the proprietor owes me a favor so getting a table should be easy but it is across town and I can only ask him to hold one for so long, so…”

Mom and Dad nodded and it was at that moment, as we stood to go, that I nodded to Tyler. “Hey, so Mom, Dad, this is my partner, Tyler Bridgewater. They’re a reporter at the Vocis. They’re the one who wrote the one about Ash. And...they…”

**Tyler**

I bit down my anxiety as the Pamelas turned towards me. Pause. Focus. Bethany and Daniel Pamela, ages 46 and 48. Respectively a schoolteacher and a very high-ranked member of the carpenter’s guild. I had done a bit of reading up on them after I’d started dating River. They stared at me and I wished I’d hidden more...and then suddenly Bethany laughed.

“This is Tyler Bridgewater? I have to say, I’m...your reputation seems to have exaggerated your propensity for eccentric fashion choices.” Lady if I hadn’t been nervous about meeting you the colors and sex appeal tonight would have blown you away.

I managed to smile. “Yeah, no. Not even a little. I just….never met a partner’s parents before, and I wasn’t sure what they’d do with my usual…approach, so I toned it down a bit.” Bethany laughed.

“Oh, Tyler. You didn’t have to. Riv’s been writing to us. You make her happy, we’d have been fine with whatever you wore...actually I was kind of curious to see.” 

Now it was my turn to laugh, with a little more of my usual confidence. “Then stick around for the celebration tomorrow night after River gets promoted fully. I intend to wear something with colors and sex appeal and mixed origin that will have sanity-stripping effects bordering on the Lovecraftian.”

That got a laugh out of her dad, which satisfied me for a moment, and River looked a bit embarrassed. Good. You know what? Good. Served her right for not telling me ahead of time that her parents would have wanted to see what I had planned for tonight. Then again, that might have been apprehension at knowing the exact degree to which I was NOT bluffing.

At the mention of where Ash had secured reservations, I grinned. Blazing Boar was hard to get tables at - not because it was terribly exclusive, it was just crowded this time of year. We walked over and the owner came out and clapped Ash on the shoulder. “Hey, good to see ya. The other guy arrived like, ten minutes ago. Don’t worry, you’re on opposite ends of the joint - and on that note, I’m going to confirm that you did leave your weapons at the Sanctum?” Ash drew back his jacket and showed the lack of a sword there, and the owner nodded, showing us to our table. I didn’t know what they were talking about, probably Inquisition business? But as we walked in and sat down I saw Ash glower across the room at another group of people - one of them an older man in an Inquisition dress tunic - sitting down. 

I looked at River, who mouthed that she’d explain later. 

We sat down and ordered a round of spiced hot cider to warm up, autumn, even this far south, got cold. “So, Tyler,” River’s dad asked, as they sipped down the drink. “I’ve been following your reporting on the suggested hydroponic greenhouses they started construction on. You think they can actually finish them?”

“Engineering Stewardship, Agricultural Stewardship, Builder’s Guild, Farmer’s Guild, all say it’s possible. Faith cleared it, Inquisition cleared it - and Ash, I want to say, on record,” I added, as an aside, “That by Gaia, you were not kidding about Belladonna, so it should be able to move foreward. It’d take a lot of pressure off of the farms with people coming in, and give us a little more wiggle room on lean years.” I hadn’t been sure at first, it seemed like an overblown campaign promise, but if it worked out…

“So yeah, I’d say Senator Lomaire got my vote with this one.” Mr. Pamela nodded. “I like you.” River smiled at me as Mrs. Pamela nodded. By unanimous agreement we wound up getting the seared Klamath pike and a platter of ribs and winter greens to pass around, and I let myself have fun, gently holding River’s hand under the table. 

“Oh, River, who’s that other Apprentice Inquisitor over there?” I said, teasingly. Now that I was over being nervous, I figured I could be a little bit awful. “He’s pretty cute…”

River’s reaction of visceral disgust was not one I’d prepared for but when she explained that she and Reed ahd a pretty major rivalry going and that he constantly bitched about her being there but would randomly compliment her, I thought about telling her that she was making it sound like a fun slow burn from one of my older sister’s bodice rippers before deciding against it. She seemed to grok what my smirk meant about three minutes in.

You’d think the Inquisition would teach you better than that, but then again, she was working with Ash so relationships weren’t something I expect was on the curriculum. “Look, I know, I know. I’m just messing with you. What is it with Ash and Pike, though?”

Everyone looked at Ash, who simply said, “We don’t have time for that tonight. Besides. Tonight is about River. She’s earned it - and she’ll earn another night of celebration tomorrow.” I had to say, for all his reputation - and for that he was clearly uncomfortable in a party setting - he really did seem to care about Riv. Maybe there was a heart under all the steel after all.

I kept chatting up her parents - talking about fashion for a while, politics, my opinions on the penal reforms, the recent scandal that had broken out in Frostreach - though I’d actually been embarrassingly behind the curve on that one, in my defense, the sources that would normally have told me about it had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time to hear about any of it and get the information to me quickly - and they seemed to be warming to me. We talked about River’s training, about her Trials, about the kinds of trouble she got up to, about the kinds of trouble I had been in...

River smiled as she watched me interacting with her family, and I was happy to report to myself by the end of the night that I’d made a good impression - and that River was giving her parents a quick hug and kiss before dragging me off somewhere and demanding to see the outfit I had tomorrow. 

“Tell you what. Follow me to my room, I’ll change into it for you. You can watch.”

Turned out, I had lied about that. We only got through me ditching the current outfit before clothing became irrelevant. And now, I reflected smugly, I was doing this with the full approval of her parents.


	51. Trial of Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final trial of River's apprenticeship, and the finale of part I

**River**

The Trial of Judgement. The one I was most worried about. The one I wasn’t sure if I would finish. Ash was waiting. Belladonna was waiting. Pike was waiting. I was a little nervous as I looked around and saw a few Inquisitors I didn’t know. I stood in attendance, waiting for my question. I had seen Reed walking out, and he seemed to be looking pretty good. 

“I passed!” He’d smiled, and nodded at me as I got ready to go in. “I think you’ll be fine. The question wasn’t too hard - your Mentor wasn’t that rough on me.”

That meant that Ash wanted to win someone over who might be willing to work with me, not that Pike would be merciful back. Though I suspect, from the semi-apologetic look in Reed’s eyes, that he knew that already. Or at least, knew I would be foolish to expect mercy from Pike.

I was now standing in my ceremonial garb in full view of everyone - the Druid who’d watched my Trial of Communion, Violet, and the Inquisitorial judges. I looked around and was told to sit on the stump in the middle of the room. Belladonna looked at me and smiled. 

“Now, I don’t know what your Mentor has told you of this Trial, so I will say, per tradition, that it is meant to test the convictions of an individual Druid coming up in the ranks and their ability to keep their own values in line with Gaianism - as well as their ability to argue their convictions within the Faiths’ framework, on questions with no objective answer. In other words, it requires you to truly understand what you must to perform your role correctly. For yours, I was almost lost in coming up with an appropriate question. However, I read an interesting article by a friend of yours.”

Oh, scorch me. 

“You said, in your interview with Tyler Bridgewater in the Vocis, that you believed that there are deficiencies in Inquisitorial training that leave our people unprepared for many things you saw them asked to do during the refugee crisis, and that you were often brought to assist in things that were only, to quote your statement in the article, “Barely contained within the skillsets I was being trained for.” I have questions about this, as it was a very bold statement to make about Inquisition policy from an Apprentice, and yet, there were some higher-ranked Druids who agreed with you in some capacity. So the question I wanted to pose to you today is: by what measure do you believe these issues could be improved?”

I blinked. I took a breath. This was a good move. All at once, I was going to be asked something way above my paygrade and held accountable for the answer - and it would be entirely my own fault.

“I think that the Inquisition, by virtue of the training we receive, was the logical choice to help debrief refugee groups to determine culpability or innocence in mixed-caste groups fleeing Randaynia. For similar reasons, using us to keep an eye on the flow of resources and making sure nothing was being lost to embezzlement or corruption made sense. We are trained in field medicine, a little, so I could even see being asked to assist with first aid, in a pinch, but nothing we are trained in really makes us even remotely suitable for assisting in housing administration. Or counseling.” Pike was already sneering a bit, handsome face distorted in contempt, and I could see Ash looking at me, a trace of worry on his face. 

In short, I could tell I needed to get to the point.

“The reality is, we have a specific function. We, the Inquisition, are meant to be the enforcers of faith doctrine, defenders of sacred places, and investigators. We aren’t intended as a catch-all task force that can be thrown into just about any gap. The Book of Love does say that doing what you can to help people is good, even if others could have done better, but having seen the results of Inquisition attempting to do the work of social workers during the time of my own resettlement and reeducation as an Arcadian with the Pamelas, I can honestly say that a lack of training in counseling, coupled with a truly brutal personnel scarcity - we have, what, less than a hundred Adepts, and maybe half that many Journeyers and Mentors? Plus twenty-odd apprentices at any given time? And we’re expected to keep an eye on all of Arcadia? All of those things add up and you can wind up doing unintentional damage where you meant to help. Add in that the average Arcadian has never actually seen an Adept of the Inquisition outside times of trouble - and honestly, might never have seen one at all - and all the stories told about us as these ominous, all-knowing agents of dark justice for Gaia, and people who might know well enough to correct us in the field if we’re assisting them in a crisis might well wind up being too afraid to do so.”

Pike spoke. “The Guard perform many functions, and no one claims that they should not…”

“The Guard are drawn from local communities and are organized into squads, companies and regiments by region. At the squad level, they’re often responsible for policing the very communities they were recruited from. Outside being sent to warzones, they have most of their careers to get to know the locals. Most people the Inquisition sees will never see us again. Also, the Guard have only a handful of jobs: Apprehend criminals without harming them and see to it that they make it safe to court and serve their sentence peacefully, and occasionally deal with an enemy nation or a band of Nihilons. Technically that’s it. They get asked to be present as backup when someone has a psychotic episode, but even then, it’s “as backup” when all other things have tried and failed and someone needs to be restrained so they don’t hurt themselves or someone else. They aren’t expected to take point the way we were in at least a few debriefings.”

“Alright, that aside,” Belladonna waved a hand, “I have another question. You’ve made the case, very well, that the Inquisition is not equipped to handle what is being thrown at it - something I think should suffice as the first half the question. The second half is still “what should be done about it,” and you’ve not addressed that yet.” I nodded, heart pounding.

“Right. Thank you for pointing that out. To some degree, the Inquisition needs to push reforms that strengthen other institutions to begin with so that we don’t wind up being thrown into quite as many gaps to begin with - Caretaker Stewardship, Education Stewardship, Engineering Stewardship, and Guard would all have been helpful there. But it’s a bit beyond that. At some point, we do need to demystify ourselves somewhat. Everyone knows a Faith Druid, and knows what they’re about. Most people know an Ecology Druid - or at least have met one. Inquisitors are rare, and I don’t know if the right solution is to have more of us or to simply have more sanctums - we do ourselves no favors by sequestering in a semi-sealed one in the Capitol when we’re not on mission. We have sanctums in other places, true, but most of them are either secret or inaccessible - and I cannot be the only one who’s heard rumors about the holding cells beneath them. I know they’re mostly nonsense, and that we don’t do horrible things to heretics to get them to recant, but so much of our training is secret that the average Arcadian doesn’t.” A murmur went around the room at that - most had heard the grim rumors and laughed them off as absurdities no one really believed. 

I continued. When I’d started talking I hadn’t thought I would say that cutting down on the mysticism of the Circle would solve many of our problems or mitigate them but it had turned into that and I couldn’t really deny the conclusions I was coming to as I developed my own argument. “This has advantages insofar as people tend to not want to obstruct our investigations, but it also means that they give up on rights under the Arcadian constitution out of fear, already a failure of our mission as protectors of the rights of the people. Worse yet, they often fail to tell us when we’re doing something wrong and actually hurting someone by mistake. Not only that, because people know so little about us they assume we’re capable of a lot more than we actually are - and it’s only a matter of time, if things go unchecked, before people throw something at us that is literally impossible for any organization that currently exists, and we lose credibility trying to save face and accomplish it. When that happens, we will lose credibility, and to the more purely mission oriented members of the Circle, that may well mean that the Inquisition becomes less able to enforce the laws of Gaia than we are now. It’s a gamble either way, but secrets can’t carry us forever - Arcadia is getting bigger and we have to adapt to that or we will wind up being discarded and rendered obsolete.”

The roar that greeted that was immediate, but through it, Pike gestured angrily, and I saw Ash give me not a smile, not a wink, but a solemn, approving nod, one that communicated a wealth of respect, pride, and genuine admiration. Belladonna’s voice rang out above the din with such an air of authority and certainty that everyone obeyed her word immediately.

“Stop.” Everyone went silent. 

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Apprentice, but you have re-articulated a highly controversial opinion that several druids took some time ago. At the time, it was dismissed as unnecessarily radical and foolhardy, as our reputation was a great asset. Yet, in this current environment, I can’t deny that things have changed enough to be worth re-examining your argument. You are elevated to Journeyer in the eyes of Gaia, with all the rights, responsibilities, and privileges contained therein. Take a bow, and we will conduct the ceremony in an hour. Everyone except River Pamela and Ash Roanoake, leave the chamber. Per tradition, I will speak with the Mentor and former Apprentice, alone.” People filed out, Violet smiling at me as she passed, Pike scowling and Ash giving him an insolent smile.

**Ash**

Hearing my apprentice essentially reinvent a radical position from ten years ago - one that Pike had been responsible for discrediting the proponents of, no less - had certainly been pleasant, but watching Belladonna get ready to talk to us both in private was nerve-wracking.

“Journeyer River.” She spoke to my Apprentice - Journeyer, now, I reminded myself, all but bursting with pride. She gave a long sigh as the last of the audience left the room, and let herself slouch a little, her face becoming far less stern. It looked like an expression of someone about to lay cards on a table, about to be honest in circumstances that allowed it. If I didn’t know her, I’d have been convinced. 

She spoke to River. “I know that your mentor and I have philosophical disagreements, and I know that his clash with one of my closest political allies is hardly encouraging. But contrary to what you both seem to have come to believe, I am not your enemy. Ash, you have been a wonderful part of the Inquisition, and your work is beyond dispute, regardless of a rocky start. And River...Until today, what you may have mistaken for malice wasn’t...exactly. I merely didn’t know how you’d turn out, and I wasn’t willing to take bets either way. The Inquisition rarely moves forward on passion, which is one of many things I suspect seasoning will teach you, though I admire it in the young. You were an unknown quality - either you would fail spectacularly, and the Inquisition would have been spared the difficulty of adapting to those raised outside the faith coming to enforce it, or you would succeed, in which case it would be proven a worthwhile endeavor and one worthy of continuing. Assigning you to Ash, despite the rumor mill,” at this, I smiled inwardly - something had come of my groundwork, after all - “was a matter of practicality. He knows what it is to feel an outsider, and in the event of failure, he and I could have simply noted the myriad times that Ash said he wasn’t sure he was ready for an Apprentice, or there could have been some polite fiction that Ash’s memories of the war had resulted in him failing to correct certain errors in time because of his trauma. It would have been regrettable, but no one would have dared to say that it truly disqualified him as much as required him to try Mentoring again, with an Apprentice unconnected to past scars. In the event of success, it would have been seen as a brilliant gamble to ensure that you had the best possible Mentor for someone trying to break something of a glass ceiling.” 

I avoided noting that I was standing right there. This was River’s moment. River could decide for herself if Belladonna was worth listening to. I could tell her later that I was under no circumstances merely playing a role.

“With that said, I couldn’t afford to be strongly invested in either direction - I needed to have contingencies for both. If I pressed to ensure success or failure, it would have done serious internal damage to the Inquisition had I bet the wrong way. Now that you’ve come this far, I think you and I can work far more closely together, and be far more openly aligned.”

River paused, then shook her head. I smiled. I spotted the flaw in everything Belladonna was saying. I wanted to see if River did as well. If I’d really taught her well enough.

“You’re a bad liar. If what you say is true, you needed me to either fail or succeed spectacularly - if i did either in a quiet fashion, it gained you nothing and cost you nothing, but would have left the festering internal arguments in the Inquisition going on the subject - and you’d have looked stupid for leaving it to go either way without some sort of intervention. You aren’t dumb enough to have missed that. You had to be putting your thumb on the scale to one side or another - and you wouldn’t have lied just now if it was to help me. Also, I find it odd that you told Ash he could bring me on the mission with Hyacinth - despite that being a breach of the rules. He decided against it for obvious reasons, but I don’t buy for an instant that that wasn’t planned. You’ve made a lot of moves - including keeping me out of the capitol for months while a lot of important events happened and rumors would be going around - that only make sense if you see me as damage to be controlled rather than an asset to be polished, and despite all your claims of hedging your bets, you did still place bets. You had to - it wouldn’t make sense to do anything else. You just admitted Pike, a man that Ash has almost duelled more than once, is an ally of yours. That’s pretty obvious.” I thought about laughing, then River delivered the coup.

“What’s even worse? If you’d done the legwork on your target? You’d have known that just owning up to malice would have pissed me off less than claiming it was apathy. Malice makes me less angry than apathy - or people thinking that apathy is preferable.” River walked out and as I turned to follow, I looked at Belladonna.

“Word of this won’t get around, I don’t think. But you’re getting sloppy. And I heard the veiled threat in your words whether she did or not. If I hear so much as a whisper that Pike is going after River, anywhere, at any time, for any reason, I will kill him. Openly, in a public duel. The spectacular nature of such a clash will draw enough attention to make the events that provoked it public knowledge, and you and I both know the level of fire that’ll fall on your head for letting a rivalry fester that badly in the Circle will destroy your credibility entirely and do Gaia knows how much damage to the Inquisition’s. And when I’ve finished that? I’ll come for you for having sent him. I won’t be what I was in my youth, or even what I am now after fighting Pike for real, but there will be more than enough left of me to settle accounts for any attempts River’s life. I’m more than happy to have our disagreements by the rules. But those rules go away if you threaten my student. Good luck, Belladonna. May Gaia’s Grace guide us all.”


	52. Frostreach

**River**

I had never been to the farthest northern province of Arcadia before this mission, and I was rapidly growing to appreciate the reason Ash preferred to stay further south. The bitter winds of the sea, blowing in from the Sound, bit clean through the heavy wool I was wearing - even the treated, supposedly waterproof leather was worthless against this damn mist. Daisy didn’t look much happier than I did - and she’d had to be swathed in heavy, cold-weather barding for this ride. I was relieved when I saw the lights of the settlement I was meant to approach, shining in the twilight of the icy north’s late afternoon. “Alright, girl. Just a little further.”

I flexed my fingers, trying to get feeling back into them after gripping the frozen leather of the reigns too long, and wishing that I’d listened about the heavier gloves. I wondered if whoever I had been sent to deal with couldn’t have just waited on whatever heresy was afoot until the weather became something other than awful, and the answer was, of course, that if I was going to do something that would bring on the Inquisition I’d do my best to wait for good weather so the Inquisitor wasn’t tempted to use me like a Taunton from a pre-Calamity sci-fi film when they got to me, but not everyone was rational and they might have hoped that we’d simply wait for better weather.

Apparently they’d never met me. Or Ash. Or Belladonna. To be fair, I never said we were rational people either. Sane people do not ride through weather like this. 

We struggled through the cold, Daisy and I, eventually arriving in Silverdale, where a - scorch him, comfortably dressed - Guardsman with what looked like fur lining his breastplate and the pre-Calamity construction helmet favored by Guard troopers. He waved. “Two Inquisitors? In one day? What kind of trouble is going on?”

Two?

I nodded and passed by, getting Daisy inside a well-heated stable with a heat lamp, kept powered by what looked like wind turbines on the roof of the building. Clever, given how windy it was here. I shuddered and clenched my teeth over pain as feeling came back to my hands, and had to bite down a curse as I saw the other horse in the stable I recognized - Reed’s roan courser mare. I was going to have to deal with some platonic tsundere bullshit while on this mission - either that, or I got lucky and we were on two different ones entirely, that just happened to be near Silverdale.

Though, I mused internally, I could do well to stop watching quite so much old anime if terms from it were slipping into my internal monologue. 

I walked into the Inquisition Sanctum and found it occupied by the sandy-haired Journeyer who had gained the rank the same day I had. I sat down and unrolled my bedroll. “Hello, Reed.”

He glanced at me. “River? Oh, scorch me…of all the people it could have been…”

“What does that mean?”

“It means this sanctum only has one room for visiting Inquisitors. Plenty of beds, but…”

“Poisoned Sky.”

“Yeah.” 

I almost wanted to resign myself to a miserable evening right then and there. Maybe use some of my living stipend to go get a room at an inn. He almost looked ready to do the same, and then he spoke. “If you aren’t comfortable with sleeping in a Sanctum like an Inquisitor, you can go get an inn. Or, in the interest of kindness, I can sleep out here.”

No, no, now we were entrenched in this. “No, I think bunking in a room for one night should be fine. We’ll finish up whatever missions we have tomorrow and never deal with this again. Speaking of which, what are you up here for?” 

“There’s an archive that just got dug up. That, and there’s some pre-Calamity cache of gold that someone found from some rich dick’s mansion, Bezos. The one with the big trading company that hired couriers to deliver the products directly to customers?”

“Right, right. What are you doing with that, though?”

“Being anal about checking the ledgers and making sure the gold goes where it’s supposed to, and none gets skimmed. Also, checking over the Archive. You?”

I’d had a chance to read the mission dispatch in a small cache-cave last night. “Having a word with an idiot who’s been ice fishing in Spokane territory, in violation of treaty. The Guard is technically going to perform the arrest, but I need to be the one the tribe sees investigating - or rather, the Inquisition needs to be the one the tribe sees investigating. It’s a show of good faith to have Inquisition on anything regarding the resources they’ve agreed to share with us, to show we both have an understanding of how sacred the land is. So I’m the one catching the dumbass and hauling him to the Guard.”

Reed nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. Plus, the tribes would probably rather see Ash’s former Apprentice than Pike’s.”

“Why’s that?”

“They get touchy about their way of doing things. And Ash championed them at the word of Violet before.” 

I nodded. “The duel that never was?”

“Yeah.” 

“I never heard the full story.”

“Me neither.” We paused in that moment, and he shrugged. “Anyway. You’ll smooth it over, I’ll deal with the bureaucrats. Shouldn’t take more than a day or two. We can bunk as far from each other as possible. See you in the morning.”

Of course, that was the night that the Sanctum sprung a leak - the heating weakening the sealant of the cieling, and a trickle of cold water came pouring in. Which forced me and Reed to re-evaluate sleeping patterns - namely, getting as far as we could from the leak, which meant two beds next to each other on the opposite end of the room.

Not exactly according to plan. I realized that the bunk at the far end of the room from Reed’s was damp, so I moved to the one next to it, before I realized that because of where the leak had sprung, I’d be better off moving closer. As I did, I tried to explain it.

“It’s just practical. We are both simply trying to avoid freezing. For real this time, see you in the morning.”

Reed rolled his eyes. “Do you snore?”

“No. You?”

“No.” He took off his armored road jacket and threw his cloak over the bed, pulling off his boots as well. I did the same, and he winced at the color of my toes when I stripped off the socks. “Fuck, River, you’ve got a tiny bit of frostbite. We’ll talk about that. Warm up.” He threw me a strange object, which looked like a ceramic bottle of hot water. “Go to the washtub, put your feet in, pour this out over them, then dry them off very carefully after letting them soak.”

I took his advice and clenched my teeth over a scream of pain, glancing at the amused look on his face. He spoke as though nothing had happened.

Reed seemed remarkably comfortable in the cold, the bastard. “Oh, River. Just a tip. Take off your travel cloak and throw it over the top of the covers - it’ll double as an extra blanket here, just like in the field.” I glanced at him and he shrugged. “I’m from Frostreach, remember? You don’t have winter in Bay Hills or Reclamation, not like we do. If you need advice on dealing with the cold, I’ll give it - I’m not going to have a fellow Inquisitor freezing to death because she wasn’t prepared for this weather. I’ll expect similar advice from you should I ever have to go to Reclamation in the summer.”

That was…actually pretty nice, even if he was desperately framing it as a fair trade that you could only expect because we were both professionals. “Thanks. And I’ll keep it in mind. Two pairs of socks or no?”

“Scorch no. You’ll cut off your circulation if you do that and lace your boots tight enough to keep the snow out. Though that explains a lot about why your feet are half-frozen. One, thick pair. Tomorrow, before I start working, I’ll bring you to a shop where you can get some proper cold weather socks and tell you how to put them on properly. And get some better gloves while you’re here, before you go into the field tomorrow. And your winter cloak has a hood for a reason. Keep it up. And a scarf.”

I paused. “Reed…” My voice was quiet, not direct, and I heard him wince.

He grunted. “Right. Sorry. I…didn’t think of that. Loose scarf, then. Not tight. Make it long and wide, as well, able to wrap around your face - you don’t want your nose or mouth exposed to the early-morning cold of a Frostreach winter. They sell scarves like that here. Get one of those.” I paused, and realized he was being totally genuine.

“Thanks. In case you have to go to Reclamation before I talk to you again, in summer, light, silk clothes, hydrate. Literally twice as much as you think you should. Wear things that breathe, and forget the jacket unless you’re expecting to be ambushed. Stay in the shadows as much as possible, and travel during the night if you have to travel over the open ground. Eat as much salt as you can and don’t touch a drop of the booze.”

“Got it. Actually that brings up another point here: Stay away from liquor. You’ll drink some of it, and feel warm. What it’s actually doing is releasing body heat, meaning it’s actually dropping your body temperature. Don’t do it.” 

I nodded. “Any food I should stick with?”

“Hydration, actually. You won’t feel thirsty in the cold as much but you will need it just as much as you usually do.”

I smiled. “Thanks. I’m going to sleep.”

He rolled over.

Maybe Reed and I could be friends without our Mentor’s enmity in the way after all.


	53. Out of the Cold

**Vanessa**

The snow came down in little flurries as I walked to work, the air cold and crisp. Visibility was still good, which meant that if nothing else, the caravans looking to winter in a walled settlement would be able to see us pretty easily. As I walked, a soldier snapped me a quick salute - I idly smiled at her, quickly scanning her breastplate for unit insignia. She was from Second Wildrun, which meant that Beck was not in town, nor deployed here. A pity - the memories were rough this time of year and he’d told me that his next leave would be spent in Crests. Hopefully that would be before winter ended - sex I wasn’t sure about, but cuddling with someone I knew and trusted would be good, especially in this cold. 

Still, I reminded myself, it was good to have the reminder that large men and women with weapons saluted the people looking to help vulnerable people - especially kids - instead of thinking we were rabble rousers. Mom and Dad had sent me a care package that had arrived yesterday - a few blankets, a letter, a few new pens - I was always losing mine. 

I fell inside the Caretaking Stewardship hall, and saw the portrait of the founding Steward Caretaker on the wall. A good reminder - a relief. I could do this. People had been doing it for centuries. I took a deep, shuddering breath and tightened my scarf a little - hiding the old scars. The night person walked out, bleary-eyed. “Hey, Van. Your instinct on the Ibrahim case was a good one - Cpl. Youseff’s squad got alerted by neighbors and found out that it was, in fact, a shit placement. I got Tara and Mark settled back in, but they’re pretty rattled. They give the impression of not wanting to need more than one rescue by the Guard.”

I felt like clutching my face and screaming. I wanted to be wrong about that so badly - poisoned sky and ruined sea. Those two deserved so much better than kept happening. They’d come as refugees, pretty clearly both escapees from bad situations - Mark had actually been a slave for a time, though apparently Tara hadn’t - her family had been more run-of-the-mill abusive. The two of them had had the positively enterprising idea of heading towards Arcadia during the orgy of violence that had preceded the collapse after Tara had run away. They were really smart - whenever people had asked what Tara was doing unaccompanied, Mark had replied that “my master and mistress sent me to help keep an eye on their daughter, she’s not unaccompanied.” And whenever someone asked why Mark was out and about, Tara had played the part of the mistress for him to deflect suspicion.

They’d taken care of each other through quite a lot, but near the end his mistress and her father had apparently decided to run from the chaos, well after their partners had died, and had apparently gotten along well enough to travel together - and by sheer bad chance had met with them on the road. By sheer good chance, it had happened only a few miles from Guard picket lines, which meant that when two terrified, obviously traumatized children ran from adults pursuing them, said adults were mowed down by a trio of Guard sharpshooters who, like most Guard sharpshooters, thought “abuser in the open” and “improvised quiver” are synonymous phrases. Tara and Mark were respectively fourteen and fifteen and had adamantly refused to be placed apart from each other, which meant I had to find a home willing and able to take care of two co-dependent, extremely capable liars with massive authority issues and trauma who had effectively adopted each other as siblings. 

Even in Arcadia, that was a scorching trick.

Ben snapped me out of it. “Van. You’re up. I did my best but all I could do was help calm them down and get them to sleep. Talked them through the panic attack and all that but they’re going to be up soon. I can make breakfast for them right now, but you’re up for counseling - I’ve been awake for eighteen hours and need to sleep a bit.”

I nodded as he wandered off to the kitchen, and slowly gathered up my files. We still had both Danny and Audrey here, and - oh thank Gaia, the placement for Mila seemed to have worked out. I took a drink of the tea that Ben had left out for me and sipped it. Steeped a bit long, but that meant more caffeine. “Ben, you are Gaia’s angel of mornings, and I want you to know I appreciate your work.”

“Great, don’t call me in for a double shift tomorrow. Unless you’re working a double shift today, in which case yeah, send for me and Faiza both.” His cranky bullshit was mostly pro-forma, though there was the edge of having worked way too long giving it a genuine sense. The asexual caretaker was a good man, and if I needed him, he’d come in. Faiza was great, too.

I walked into the room as Danny and Audrey woke up, blearily. These two hadn’t been enslaved or abused - they’d just gotten unlucky. Their mother had died in a hunting accident when she’d missed her shot at a boar and had tried to reload in a panic when the boar charged her instead of grabbing the hunting spear and bracing it, and their father had died of pneumonia earlier in the fall. Eleven and eight, they were sweet but they’d been having a hard time getting up for a while - they were pretty depressed, and while we had excellent child psychologists coming in, there was only so much one can do to make kids feel better when their parents have died far before they were ready. And Gaia, did I know it. Even in the best of circumstances, the deaths of my birth family would have been hard.

“Ben’s made you breakfast. Why don’t you two get dressed for now, and eat something, okay?” They started rising, Danny pulling his sister out of bed and beginning to get changed. I didn’t leave quite in time to avoid seeing the smalls of their backs, unmarred by brands, and suppressed a surge of envy that I reminded myself was unfair. I turned around and walked out, towards the dorm where Mark and Tara were. I knocked and heard a curse followed by a shout followed by a quiet litany of reassurances and I leaned against the wall. “Yeah, we’re getting up.”

“Okay. Ben made breakfast, I’ll talk to you when you’re out there, okay?” And here inlay the truly fun thing about being a Caretaker Stewardship employee as an abuse victim - you had to learn not to compare childhoods with other abuse victims. While Danny and Audrey’s experience with being orphaned would be about as good - or at least, as limited in suffering - as it got, ultimately, mine had been pretty terrible - as had Beckett and River’s, though they’d gotten more good times, their masters had absolutely been more brutal to them than their parents had to me - Mark’s experience as a slave and Tara’s as a free girl in an abusive home in a land without social services had been much, much worse.

Oh, that was good news - apparently Ben had been kind enough to take the mail as well. He’d left one envelope on my desk with the word “URGENT” written on it in his hand. I skimmed it and found out that we did have a stable family willing to take in Danny and Audrey, in one of the outlying villages around Crests. They’d still be going to school here, and we’d be able to keep them in a similar routine to the one they had now - better yet, it seemed like this family was one of those we’d hoped would contact us on the matter, as they were close with the kids’ parents. They’d been out of contact for a while because of the blizzard, but if the roads were open, they’d be able to come into town today. 

I sent a quick message via my own restored terminal, through the Archives, and received the confirmation that a courier would take the message the rest of the way. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes - and it would take several hours for said family to arrive. I let the kids know that they had family friends coming to get them - they seemed excited to hear the news. Still, I had work to do with Mark and Tara, and after I started getting things packed up for Danny and Audrey, and Faiza came in to help with the little ones. I was able to sit down with Mark and Tara while my slightly younger colleague took over the conversation with the kids we were getting settled into a new home today.

I sat down with them, my hands shaking a little bit, sitting down with the two of them as I tried to speak.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that not only is the Guard talking to the Ibrahims - Sgt. Youseff is personally leading the investigation, and his attitudes towards people who raise their hand to children is grim at absolute best.” The ghost of a smile flickered across their faces - the same one I’d seen them show me when they’d first bothered speaking and mentioned the deaths of their abusers. 

The same smile I’d probably had when I got news of the Damiens being dead, before it hit me that it meant Beckett was fucked. I itched my neck a bit, and shrugged. “All that aside, though, we are going to find you two a home.”

Mark tried to speak. “I could just join the Guard, I look older than I am and they might…”

“Not a chance. I know the recruiters in the city and all of them have to check anyone who they aren’t sure of against records - and they’d find out your real age. I’d make sure of it.” Tara started speaking, “I can just…”

“No. You can’t. You’re both still children. You do not provide for yourselves. We’ll find a home for you.” I was frustrated, but forced myself not to show it - they were already getting twitchy with just the slight edge of steel in my voice. I forced it down, and shook my head. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to…”

“Yeah. Yeah. Look. Is there any way we can just...stay here, for a bit? You, Ben and Faiza are good enough for now, and it’s not like we can’t walk to school from here. Besides…” Tara trailed off. “You’re familiar, in an intimate and personal way, with everything we’ve been through on some level or another. We’d rather...stick with someone who gets it. At least for now. Ben and Faiza are good for school tutoring and therapy, and we’ve both heard the scuttlebutt that you’re dating a Guardsman who you knew from your own bods, so…”

“Bods” was the acronym for “bad old days” which was in turn the catch-all for the time when the abuse and cruelty had been ongoing, that had been part of pretty much every therapy group session I’d attended for ex-slaves and abuse victims, and it was genuinely funny to me that it was still used here and there. “Beck was the main reason my bods were bearable at all.” I managed not to add “like you were for each other” because these two were among the most aggressively dysfunctional, comfort-seeking people I’d ever met and given the idea I was sure they’d start screwing - and that was NOT a thing I was prepared to have accidentally condoned. 

“Yeah, and he had some bad times of his own, and he and you turned out okay.”

“We turned out okay because we got adopted by people who cared about us and helped us see the good things in the world. I love you two, Faiza loves you, even Ben does. But we’re not, none of us, qualified foster parents for you.”

“We’re not staying here forever. Just for a little while, while things slow down a bit.” I thought about that, chewed the inside of my lip, and realized that trying to shove them out the door would go over worse with them. I had plenty on their files - Tara’s family had threatened to sell her more than once and Mark actually had changed owners twice. Even I’d only been through it once and as bad as the Damiens had been, they hadn’t been lying to their kids saying they’d been an improvement for me - Mark’s sales had both trended the other way. These kids wanted stability, and if all it meant for me was more paperwork and a few extra shifts, plus more chaos at the office...

It would help them trust that people actually cared about them and wanted to help, after being among the last stragglers picked up by patrols wandering the under-populated Wildrun region. It would help them feel like their opinions about what they needed were being considered and right now maybe that’s what they needed. “For right now, you guys can stay a little longer, especially given that winter is coming in hard. But we’re not going to stop looking for placements for you, okay?”

They looked at each other, and then back at me. “Alright. Thanks, Ms. Fletcher.” I smiled. “Of course. Not going to risk having you back out in the cold before winter’s over, at least.”

They both looked a little more relaxed, and I felt myself smiling.


	54. Tandem Mission

**River**

The next morning when I woke, Reed was good to his word. We threw our gear on and he gestured for me to follow him. “There’s warm clothing on sale in town. Get dressed, we’re requisitioning some warm gear for you.” I stood and glanced at him, and he looked back, a slight sneer on his face. “Come on, River, I don’t want you to freeze.” I stood up and shook myself off as I followed him. He showed me around Silverdale, and I kept close behind, the wind still howling and shearing clean through my jacket. Reed kept his hood up as we got into a tailor’s. “Bailey. I have a coworker, needs some cold weather gear.” 

I glanced at him until it clicked that he was from Frostreach - and this was one of the biggest cities in the province. Of course he’d been through here before. A woman came out from the back room of the shop, looking around. “Reed. Good to see you again. This a friend?”

“No. Just a colleague. Complicated. She’s from down south though, don’t want her freezing her Bay Hills ass off up here.”

He hadn’t called me a Randaynian, even if he managed to conceal it in regional contempt. The other woman laughed a little. “Yeah, sounds about right. Southerners don’t do that well up in Frostreach. Come here, girl.” I reached for my sword at that statement, slowly caught myself, and then let go. Reed looked at me. “River, stop. You’re safe. Bailey’s famously gruff. She’s not…”

Bailey seemed confused and muttered something about decapitation being a shocking turn to take for a lack of manners, and Reed looked at her and shook his head. “There’s a reason. Old scars. River, seriously. Ease down.” I took a breath and nodded. 

“Right. I came here for socks, a scarf, gloves, and a warmer cloak.” Bailey glanced at me and nodded, getting a tape measure and measuring me. “Right. Socks shouldn’t be hard - got a fairly common size for those. Gloves are the same story, though hopefully your hands don’t need a lot of flexibility for your swordplay.”

Reed grunted. “Might, but not enough for your mittens to interfere with. She’s at least a good a blade as I am.” I almost wanted to taunt that but stopped myself - he was helping. I could let him delude himself a bit. 

Bailey grunted. “And will she be needing a better cloak? And scarf?”

“Yeah. I will. Loose, long scarf, if possible.”

Bailey nodded, then shrugged. “Can do that.” She looked at me, and I felt a little uncomfortable. “Refugee?”

“Reed?” I was looking for a bit of help, and Reed smirked at the request. “Yeah, Bailey? Inquisition business. River needs better cold weather gear to do her job. Anything more than that is confidential.”

Bailey looked at him hard and threw me a scarf that would be roughly right for my neck. Long, though - it’d trail behind my cloak - eh...no it wouldn’t. I’d tuck it under my cloak in case I got in a fight and someone tried to choke me with a scarf. We walked out, newly swathed in my heavy cold weather gear, and I shot Reed a grin.

“Hey Reed? You can dress it up in whatever excuse you want, but I just want you to know...I appreciate you sticking up for me back there, and not making me explain my trauma. Thanks.”

He shrugged. “Bailey’s good at her job but she’s always been nosy. Thought I’d help you out, that’s all.” I smiled and nodded. 

“Still.”

“You’ve got a treaty violator to catch, and I’ve got some ancient dragon’s horde of a pre-Calamity asshole’s wealth to guide to the right place. Good luck on your hunt, River.”

“Good luck on your bureaucrat wrangling, Reed.” He grinned, and waved. 

“Better get your advice next time I go into the Sandscar or Reclamation, River!”

I grinned and walked away.

***

Okay so the cold weather gear was far from perfect since I still felt the wind rip through it - now, it just did so with far less ferocity and took less of my body heat with it out the other side. I shuddered under the cloak but kept up the watch I’d been assigned on the spot where the thefts had supposedly been happening. 

I’d met with the Spokane to get the information. I’d gone into their territory, openly and without attempting to keep up any degree of stealth. I’d been approached by their people and immediately unbuckled my sword belt and allowed my weapon to hit the icy ground with a clatter. As they’d approached, I held my arms up, palms open. “My name is River Pamela, a Journeyer of the Circle of Inquisition. I have been sent to investigate the violation of Arcadia’s treaty with you for winter fishing rights. As it pertains to both our ongoing friendly relations with your people, and to the sacred lands and resources within them, the Inquisition has been dispatched.”

One of them held up a hand to others and approached me. “Journeyer? Who was your Mentor?”

I smiled, slightly. “Ash Roanoake was the one I apprenticed under.” That lent me some credibility. “Do you accept Arcadia’s sincerity in wishing to attend this breach of treaty?”

There was a pause, then a murmur of assent. “I’m glad. Now, the Guard has been, by treaty, forbidden from setting foot on your lands as an armed force or exercising authority here. Do I have your permission to carry out an investigation of the matter and make arrest of any Arcadian Citizen I find on your lands?”

“It is good to see your people proving their desire to maintain friendship. Yes, carry out the investigation as you see fit.” I looked at the man and bowed, deeply, as I’d been taught to do when interacting with tribal leaders.

“May I recover my sword from the ground?”

The man I addressed nodded, and I picked the weapon back up and buckled it back on - to my relief. Ash must have rubbed off on me more than I realized, I hated the vulnerability I felt without it. I asked for help finding my way to the area where the trespassing had apparently occurred. I was shown to the spot, and my guides vanished into the brush - I had little doubt that they’d emerge if they needed to or if it looked like I wouldn’t do the job, but they seemed to want to watch me work, to see what kind of investigator the Arcadians had sent them.

So I crouched down and forced myself to stay still in the snow - the wind whipped through and made me shake again, but I didn’t stretch. I had a job to do - but I did flex my fingers in the new mitts to keep them warm, wiggled my toes within the boots to make sure I could still feel them. The scarf had been a good call - I wrapped the remaining length around my face to keep my nose warm as the snow fell in icy little flurries, with wind biting in and sending icy needles into my now mostly cold-proofed garb. I smirked with the memory of what it had actually been.

I saw someone approach the river - someone wearing garb that was clearly Arcadian in origin. He had bait and a fishing spear with him. I waited for the man to crouch by the gaps in the ice that covered the river. He raised a spear, and I finally stood up from the bush and walked forward, my boots crunching in the snow. “Hello.”

The guy looked up at the black-cloaked young woman approaching him with a sword hanging from his belt, and I could see him stiffen in fear as I reached into my jacket with my frozen hands and pulled out the Emerald Eyes that marked my status as Inquisitor. “My name is Journeyer River Pamela of the Druidic Circle of Inquisition. You are in violation of the treaty we’ve made with the Spokane people, endangering resources necessary to this ecosystem. You are therefore in violation of the laws of the Faith and the secular government. You are under arrest.” He jumped and raised a spear, probably out of panic more than anything else - my sword flew from the scabbard, shearing off the head of the spear and returning to the sheath as the useless haft clattered to the ground.

“You are under arrest. You will be assured a fair trial.” My guide stood up, looked at me as I took the fisherman into custody, and nodded before turning away, presumably to leave me to my work. 

I delivered him to the guard, and wrote up the list of charges, then went back to the Sanctum, to find Reed going through a few basic sword exercises with his own blade. He was excellent - quick, strong, and with superb technique. “That bad, eh?” 

“Looked through the surviving business records of the old bastard whose little horde we looted. Bastard hoarded gold before it was even used as currency, just to show off how rich he was. Good news, we recovered about eighty or ninety thousand new cedars worth of gold, so if we had questions about how to pay for the economic rehabilitation of the Reclamation, those are over. Just...found some letters about how the bastard got the entire city government of Washington state replaced when they tried to do something about the homeless problem that would take his money.” Reed’s look of disgust was clear.

I went to my room without a word and recovered my wooden sparring sword. “Hey, Reed? Go get your sparring weapon. I want to try matching against you.” I let my cloak fall to the floor, just leaving my jacket, and he nodded.

We squared off against each other, and got into guard positions - and then he attacked, so fast and furiously I could barely keep up. I parried, sidestepped, slashed at his belly, and kept wheeling around through the fight. “Scorch me, you’re good!” He was. He wasn’t Ash, but he was a lot younger and faster - a different sort of challenge. I kept up the fight, twisting in ways that brought my body within centimeters of his before twisting away in a slash that would have opened his throat had we been using real blades - and barely managed to brush aside a thrust that would have taken me through the back when he riposted. I twisted and managed to deliver a shoulder-hip slash that he blocked - and at just the right moment I saw my opportunity and got him low. When he went down, I was panting - it was a different sort of challenge than Ash, fighting someone my own age and physical ability level.

He grinned. “That was excellent.” He reached out a hand and shook mine. 

“It was. Tomorrow, I’m heading south - hope to see you again soon, Reed.”


	55. Hating, Lonely Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash goes to help create the new Inquisition Sanctum in the Reclamation, and he and Pike butt heads.

**Ash**

It’s amazing, how quickly you get used to having someone riding beside you. How slowly you adapt to being alone on a trail again, but for the sounds of Gaia’s myriad other children. I’d ridden alone as an Adept for almost a decade before I’d Mentored River - and as a Journeyer I’d been alone more often than not. But in the two years I’d been with River, I’d gotten used to having a student around - asking questions, wanting to know my thoughts on things, filling the air and space with her voice.

It had been endearing, annoying, and terribly interrupting of meditation all at once. And now it was all back to quiet.

And, scorch me, I hated it.

Quincy nickered beneath me as we came to a stream - we were in the Wildrun, on our way to the northern part of the Reclamation for some quick work in helping the Inquisition establish a Sanctum there. It wouldn’t take long, but I wasn’t going to enjoy being there. I had a strong suspicion of where it would be - it was well known that the Inquisition set up sanctums atop the ruins of sights of victories of Gaia over the forces of cruelty or heresy. We’d set one up at Salt Lake City after we’d razed half the place to conceal the “manifest destiny” idiot cult, hell, even the one in the capitol was set up near the famous “grove of heroes” where some hundred and ninety guardsmen held off the better part of a thousand proto-Nihilons - the ones just roaming around looting and burning and raping at will. The one in Bay Hills was built over the ruins of some tech baron’s mansion, the main Frostreach Sanctum over a warehouse used by that absurdly powerful pre-calamity caravan company, and I honestly didn’t know the story behind the one in Crests, but I was sure it was something similar. 

And now, carrying on that tradition, the one in Reclamation would be built in the places where slaves had been kept while waiting for sale. Which meant that they’d also be places I’d stormed back in the Guard. 

I just hoped that River would...wait. Right. Poisoned Sky. 

Though, she might still have to visit it someday. I wasn’t convinced that hadn’t been chosen deliberately by Belladonna, to be honest, but she wouldn’t have done that for that purpose. More likely she simply hadn’t thought about it, or simply hadn’t cared when the tradition would have pissed off a new Inquisitor.

“Come on, girl. We’ve got miles to go before we sleep.”

We set up camp about two hours later, and I combed out Quincy’s tail and mane, brushed her coat, and let her graze for a bit. I ran through a few quick solo exercises with my saber - missing the sparring matches - and worked through my variant of the corsair’s windmill defense, the one you could do with a bad hip. I would still be able to take Pike - I’d made an effort to see him fight when we’d been in the capitol. If he and I fought, I’d win. 

Though, given how much better he’d gotten, and how much slower I had, no guarantees how long I’d have to finish things with Belladonna before bleeding to death afterwards. I meant my threat - and I was glad River had never quite figured out the other reason she’d been assigned to me.

I was quite certain Belladonna had believed that should River fail spectacularly, and should I be ordered to deal with her, I would be able to see her as just another Randaynian. You don’t send problems to one of your best assassins - especially when they still haven’t gotten rid of an accent you associate with violence and hate - if you intend to rehabilitate them, long term.

But River had ensured she’d failed. 

I fell asleep, fitfully.

When I woke the next morning, I got Quincy saddled and began riding again. We’d be crossing the border in a matter of days. I saw, ahead of me, another tent pitched - and I recognized the horse. A long-legged, dappled stallion. 

Pike’s horse.

He must have had the same orders I did - ride to Reclamation and help set up the new Sanctum. I tried to ride straight past - I had no interest in measuring dicks with Pike today. Unfortunately for me, he was saddling up just as I passed him and quickly rode alongside me.

“Hey, Cinder!”

“Scorch off, fish.”

The nickname had stuck to him ever since Sands - our first instructor, back when we were Initiates, had called idiots “fish” because at first, Initiates flopped around like landed fish rather than Inquisitors. That, plus his name…

“On the way to Reclamation too? Have you been here since your apprentice’s homecoming?”

“River’s an Arcadian who doesn’t call this place home anymore.”

“She can say that all she wants…”

“And you can call yourself a full trained Inquisitor all you want, but you left your camp fully visible and let anyone coming up on you have full cover - had I been a Nihilon I’d have crept up, shot you and skullfucked your corpse. You are not in a position to criticize anyone’s skill.” I was shorter tempered than usual, and my military training was showing.

“I’m sure you did that to a few targets during the war.” His voice was still snide, as though he liked reminding me of the myriad crimes against humanity committed when the Guard had gone a little bit mad with rage during the war.

“Slit throats while targets slept? Mostly that was a spec ops thing, but I did a few. Skullfucked? Also no. Ambushed? Plenty. and I recommend you drop it before I remember that Violet isn’t here to save you this time.”

He grunted. “You never explained why you agreed to help Violet with that.”

“For the chance to deck you and offer to decapitate you. Also because I agreed with her.”

“You take things so personally. Not my fault your little philosophies walk the ragged edge of heresy half the time, even if some of the Faith Circle agree with you now.”

“The current Faith Archdruid agrees with me now. Your tight-assed outlook is increasingly unpopular by the people whose job it is to interpret the Faith.”

“Only because you helped discredit the Ultraorthodox.” “Which only needed doing because you insisted on actively sabotaging the Unveiling movement to the point where openly discussing the Inquisition became a nonstarter for almost a decade, which in turn meant that we wound up getting stuck with more heretics who didn’t need to commit heresy to begin with. Idiot.”

He was stronger than me, and his preferred weapon had slightly better reach, still, at this angle, I could draw, and lunge, even in the saddle, and pierce his lung before he unlimbered his own weapon. And why shouldn’t I? He was going to kill River, or try to, at some point, or make me fight him fairly in some capacity, and for all that I was depressed I still loved living too much to want to fight someone that good fair - my best dueling days were behind me. If I put a blade through his heart and lung right now, on the trail, and claimed he’d been ambushed - stripped him naked of his goods, scattered them and hid them beneath the sands some distance away and claimed they’d been taken by Nihilons or bandits - who would gainsay me? There were no witnesses, no one to interfere with me. I could settle all my issues with this fanatical, murdering prick right now with no repercussions…

“Pike, Ash? Travelling together?”

SCORCH ME! Today, really, really, wasn’t my day. A third Inquisitor had joined us - one from Crests, originally. Heather? Right, Heather. That was her name. 

“Not by choice. By chance.” I was terse. I’d had a chance and I’d squandered it. At least Heather was both decent and competent - even if fairly unimaginative. Though this might be the most Adept or above Inquisitors I’d seen on mission in one place in...ever. 

It was going to be a long, tense ride.

***

We finally arrived, and I maintain, and will continue to maintain until my death that Pike and I only survived the ride because there was a witness. We walked up to the building that we’d be tasked with turning into a sanctum - Heather had apparently already obtained the trees that would be planted within the thing, and the Builder’s Guild had already hewn open the ceiling to allow sunlight and rain in the main chamber. Heather looked around.

“This is...this is a former slave warehouse, isn’t it?”

I nodded. I was trying to keep images of terrified faces - and corpses - from swimming behind my eyes. There could not seriously still be bolt marks on those walls - or bloodstains. 

“Ash, you alright?”

“Bad memories of your apprentice’s-”

“Childhood?” Somehow Pike’s derision cut through my PTSD enough to overwhelm it with rage. Or maybe it was just manifesting differently now. “Yes. I am being triggered by the knowledge of things that happened here. You didn’t see it, asshole. You don’t know the things that were done to people, here. You’ve heard but you never saw. And if you try to say, or even imply, that my apprentice was responsible for things done to her, or somehow deserved them for being Randaynian, that duel we keep threatening to have? Will happen. Here. Today. So keep your jaws shut before I shear them off your face.”

I found myself surprised at what I’d said, but my hand was on my saber hilt - and I was still a faster draw than Pike. Heather had moved out of the way - she didn’t want to be caught in the middle if the duel of the century started.

There was a long pause. Pike shook his head. “So defensive of your apprentice. If you don’t believe blood tells, why is it so easy to goad you about it?” 

An inch of steel cleared the sheath. Heather stepped forward, finding her courage at the exact right moment to magnify my frustrations. “Both of you, STOP! We have a job to do.”

It wasn’t much - consecrations, setting up sparring circles, beds. Moving in a shrine. Setting up candles. Helping the builder’s guild tear out the concrete floor and replace it with soil. It took the better part of three days - and what I remember most was how quiet it was. I saw, or thought I saw, bits of tried blood. Smelled smoke. Had flashes of rage. River might have tried to talk to me. The builders chatted to each other, as their picks slammed into the ground and broke up the concrete, the only real sound in the Sanctum we were building. But Pike and I? Never said a word. Just kept looking at each other in silent hate. And Heather, for all her virtues, didn’t have the nerve to break the silence.

I was going to have to get used to the quiet again.


	56. Back in Class

**Violet**

I was enjoying my work within the Reclamation. Technically speaking, my job was to train the next generation of Faith Druids - that was my duty as a Mentor of the Circle of Faith. 

But with the recent flood of refugees, and the fact that I was out of rotation to train another class full of Apprentices looking to become Journeyers so they could start teaching primary schoolers the ethics and environmental stewardship expected of them as Arcadian citizens, and at least for this year, I had volunteered to help teach classes to groups of young refugees who were looking to become naturalized. 

Which was actually rewarding, for the most part. To the degree that I thought I might have peaked as an Adept, and now that I had trained my share of Apprentices, in a few more years, I could take a voluntary demotion back to Adept and go back to teaching kids. The last time I’d taught refugee kids, I remembered, it had led to my own inappropriate involvement in politics. In point of fact, finding out about what a few had gone through before being adopted by Arcadians, I had become one of the rabble rousers who’d advocated for intervention by the Guard. Had helped get the movement started for a demand that Arcadia turn its might east and enforce human rights. For some reason, I’d gotten much less flak for that in my Circle than Ash had for actually fighting in his.

Still, now, I had kicked off an argument about the ethics of cause and effect in my class and the kids were going at it - well, and with the logic I’d taught them, but I should really be paying attention rather than reminiscing.

Two of them especially were arguing - one of the more interesting ones about punitive justice models that had been attempted in the early days of Arcadia, when the Founders were first, to quote their journals, “Throwing our best guesses at the wall of high scarcity and chaos to see what stuck.” The practice, in those early days, had been one of abandoning incarceration and using public corporal punishment instead of penal labor for reduced wage. The argument had been the lack of other resources for a serious rehabilitation system, the need to maintain a degree of law, and a desire to avoid the utter idiocy of incarceration or execution of those who weren’t cooperating. It had worked - but even the Founders, as flawed as they were, seemed to be hoping it would be a temporary solution - and towards the ends of their lives, when the Calamity finally began stabilizing, they began reorganizing in ways that allowed a better system. It was still, however much an improvement over the government they abandoned, a brutal system that had doubtless left people with permanent scars across their backs for mistakes. In a class full of ex-slaves or people who had been worried about being enslaved, many for their families making mistakes, this was causing tempers to flare up in the discussion.

This despite the excellent arguments being made on both ends about the necessity of order in the Calamity, the harshness of measure painting the Founders in a grim light, and at that point, I had to speak.

“Yes, it is painting the founders in a bad light to do that, regardless of reason. Here’s the thing: That’s why they left us with those discussions. They wanted us to look back on their actions and realize they were also capable of making horrible mistakes. Their goal in leaving these memoirs was to make sure you don’t think they were perfect, and make sure no one emulates them uncritically. Get in the habit of doing that. Also,” I said, suddenly thinking of Ash, “Whatever mistakes they made, they did also create Arcadia, and correct their course. That’s the other lesson I need you to absorb today, as a closing thought,” I said, glancing at the clock. “You will, over the course of your life, make mistakes. Many of them, some small, some big, some that hurt you, some that hurt others. Learning from them is important. Feeling guilt over them is a waste of energy. Guilt only makes you waste time trying to make yourself feel better or seek forgiveness. Your goal should be to correct the problem and do what you can to make the situation right. There’s a friend of mine in the Inquisition - the only Inquisitor to serve in the Guard.” 

You could hear a pin drop suddenly. Ash, the Saint of Steel, Cinder of War, Mentor of River Pamela, the First Refugee Inquisitor...he wasn’t liked by Druids, and most natural-born Arcadians who’d heard of him thought he was a little off, but among refugees he tended to be either well-liked or absolutely despised… the latter mainly among second-wave refugees whose circumstances were widely collateral damage of the Crusade.

“He says that guilt is a worthless emotion - that all it does is distract you from your duty to both Gaia and your fellow man. And don’t waste energy feeling guilty for what your families did, either. Or your ancestors. Just work to make it right.” The students looked at me. I had the children of multiple walks of life in Randaynia, or who had been of multiple walks before the war had collapsed them and they’d been forced to see the horror of that state up close and personal. Many of them shifted, but most nodded.

I shrugged as most filed out of the room and class ended, and a few stayed behind - ones who wanted to get a bit of time in a quiet place before going back to homes full of distractions. I walked out of the room and came back with some of the hot cider that had been brewed for the students, passing it among them. They smiled and sipped it, and for just a moment I reflected. The refugees, mostly, had their own little sect of Gaianism - fittingly called the Reclaimer sect. Built around taking back control of one’s life and responsibility for the land - and seemingly determined to keep the few positive traits in Randaynian society - paying one’s debts, and keeping one’s promises. 

Not that all of them joined the Reclaimer sect - some had become Green Futurists, others had become neo-Luddites, funnily enough pretty much the only sects that thus far had no refugee members were the Hypernaturalists - the ones who practiced earthing or straight-up nudism, and to be fair, I didn’t have much time for the latter practice. And given that the Randaynian slaves had their shoes taken from them to reduce their ability to run away, it made sense that most would avoid practicing earthing.

I helped a few of them with homework - handing over the Book of Love a few times, sometimes showing the Book of Communion, or even just talking with students. Some were talking eagerly among themselves - one looked sickened by the discussion - a young man who I had seen swimming in the Colorado in the summer and seen his back covered in stripes. 

I still didn’t know what had happened to his former master but I found myself hoping it had been worse than catching a bolt. I walked over and spoke to him. “I’m sorry that today’s discussion brought up bad memories. Are you alright?”

He nodded, uncertainly. “You know, you don’t have to say yes.”

He paused, again. “I don’t know. I feel shaky, but now that the argument’s over, my head is a little clearer, I don’t know. Just...give me a bit. If it gets worse, or stops getting better, I’ll let you know, I promise, but right now I just want to think it through. The most annoying thing is that I get, rationally, why the founders did that as a transition. Before they had a reliable system of penal labor, it made sense as a quick-and-dirty solution, but it just...fucks me up to think about it.”

I blinked. He was more aware of his emotions than I thought - and able to separate himself from them to a surprising degree to make logical decisions. If I didn’t know what Belladonna was up to - or if Ash was on rotation for another apprentice - I’d have told him he’d be a good Inquisitor. But I didn’t want to push him into a circle that wouldn’t be safe for him in the next ten years - though Ash could claim all he wanted it’d take him twenty, I knew who I was betting on between him and Belladonna. Scorch it.

“Kid, with that kind of passion, and your ability to think things through - you’d be a good Inquisitor. If you wanted.”

“I definitely do not. Looks a bit more heavy on travel than I really want to be. Looking to put down roots. I’m going into the Legature, learn to argue law for trial. Maybe become a Senator or set my sights on a provincial stewardship.” I smiled. That would be a good path for him.

Plus, with a name like Logan Smith, he’d have an even harder time fitting in any of the Circles. Not a fleck of nature in that name.

“Right then, kid. Better study hard. But if things get rough in class, please let me know, okay?”

He nodded. 

I turned to look for the rest of the class - Maria was still working on her homework as well, but she seemed to have it well in hand. She’d been quiet during the debate itself, and glanced up at my approach. 

“Lady Violet…” She said, starting slightly. She was newly transferred to the class and was something of an oddity. Not a Randaynian at all, she was actually the result of something that made me extraordinary glad that the Foreign Affairs Stewardship came with competent people. She’d apparently left a bad home in the New England Empire, joined up with the Windswept Drifters Trading Company - or one of their caravans - and wound up impressing the couple who’s wagon she’d stowed away in so much that they’d agreed to adopt her after verifying that yes, the home she’d fled was genuinely bad and that they would not, in fact, be guilty of kidnapping under Arcadian law by agreeing to let her stow away. 

The issue was that she still fell back on Imperial forms of address. “Violet. Mentor Violet. Druid Violet. There’s no gentry here, sweetheart. That’s important.” She nodded, and her hair shifted just slightly enough to bring her profile into clearer view - with the bent, oft-broken nose of either an abused personality or a veteran guardsman suddenly visible. 

She shrugged. “Hierarchy, right?”

“Not the same.”

She fixed me with a stare. “Why’s that?”

Now I would have to give a good demonstration of what made it different. “In the Druidic Circles, increasing rank comes with increased responsibility and no corresponding increase in luxury - just a slight increase in academic and operational freedom. Or in my case, different sets of students to teach. They also require increasingly high levels of education and time and training, and you aren’t born into a Circle. One can be born of a Druid parent but absent going through initiation and working your way up the ranks, you don’t become a Mentor just because your parents were - and you aren’t automatically Initiated just because your parents were. Druids who aren’t related to you, who have taught you, have to vouch for you to even be an Initiate. By contrast, a Lady in the New England Empire is just...born the daughter of a Lord and Lady. An oligarch in Randaynia was either born to another oligarch in Randaynia or was in the right position at the right time to backstab one and take his position. Steward-Governors are elected, Steward-Generals work their way up from Privates in the Guard, Steward-Caretakers have to work their way up the ranks of the Caretaker Stewardship, and so on. Arcadian hierarchy is based on work and consent of those following you, not birth or cutthroat practices.” I wasn’t really sure who I was talking to by the end.

“But if I decide the Arcadian law is idiotic, not worth following, I’m going to be arrested by large men in ceramic armor carrying swords and crossbows, right?”

“At your age, no, and even as an adult their asses would be in serious trouble if they fired a bolt or drew a blade on you, but I see your point. The reason for that is that Arcadian law is made to benefit as many people as possible and that, broadly speaking, we teach all of you what the laws are and why they were made in classes like these, so that you know why they’re important, and show you how to make arguments about where they’re going wrong and make changes to the problems you see without risking anyone’s safety or livelihood by simply throwing all law to the wind.”

Logan coughed. “If you see much of it as dumb, you could change it from the inside. Scorch, there are plenty of community groups that you could work with too.” Maria shook her head. “Just wanted a question answered for my own sake. Thank you.”

I didn’t think about it further than that, but I found myself smiling. She had an attitude problem, Maria.

But nothing like I had at her age. She’d learn. It was going to be a long winter, might as well get comfortable with the students I had - they seemed bright, and had some truly entertaining personalities.


	57. Sharing Wings

**Beckett**

I’d been sent on leave, along with a platoon, for the winter. We’d broken off into squads, and most of us had hooked up with caravans that were spreading throughout Arcadia, braving the cold and the rain to keep the flow of food going. Banditry was rare this time of year, and most of the Nihilon clans who still remained - at this point, mostly sustained by inbreeding and kidnapping, at a guess - tended to hole up for winter in Crests and Frostreach, just as the ones in Bay Hills, the Reclamation, and the Sandscar would do in the summer. 

That didn’t matter to me. Van had offered to let me stay with her for winter, and I wanted to see her again. I got into Crests fairly quickly - not long after the giant blizzard hit. I trudged through the snow and found my way to the address she’d given me, and straightened my uniform - I wanted to look good for my friend, and crush - at least the scar I’d gotten on my jaw in the war had added some gravitas since the last time she saw me.

I raised a hand and knocked on the door, and within a few minutes, it opened. She was there. Autumn-red hair, sparkling eyes, smattering of freckles across her nose. “Hi, Van.”

“Beck. Glad to see you made it. With the blizzard I was worried you wouldn’t.” She suddenly lunged and hugged me. “Work’s been rough, lately.”

I nodded, slowly. She hadn’t mentioned details, but she had mentioned enough in her last few letters. “Those two kids?”

“Yeah. Been a lot, keeping an eye on them. I think the Fletchers are getting too old, though they say they’ll do it if I can’t find anyone else.” 

I paused. “I could ask the Pamelas, if you want. My own foster parents. They can’t be worse than River and I were as kids.”

Van snorted. “I have to make sure the boy’s shaving knife is taken from him before nightfall because he keeps it close and tries to slash at anyone who stands a little too close waking him up. Guess again.”

Okay that was a bit much. I paused. I didn’t really know what to say to that. Van suddenly seemed to realize we were both standing outside and signalled me to come into her home, where I quickly removed my boots, winter cloak, and armor. I also left the sturdy oaken cudgel - the weapon the Guard allowed you to keep off duty - leaning against the door frame. 

Van gestured at me to sit down with her on the little couch in the small-ish apartment she had. She set her head on my shoulder. “Takes me back. Rough day. You being the one I talked to.” I got a little stab of anxiety in my stomach and she gave a little laugh. “Stop it. Your little gestures really were what made it bearable. I’m not blaming you for what your parents did - and it’s not like you’re unaware of what it’s like, these days.” She gave a little smile. “Though from what I hear about Beckett the Beast, you deal with it pretty much the opposite way I do. Did I really see a photo of you in just the dress uniform pants a few weeks ago on a Guard recruitment pinup? Tell me you didn’t actually…”

I blushed. “You...saw that. Uh, yeah. They asked for volunteers who thought the Guard helped them get into shape for a recruitment drive, and well, I...uh, thought it might help my chances.” Van laughed, and I blushed even harder. “Don’t feel bad, Beck. I’m glad you still like your body. I’m given to understand everyone has their own way of recovering from it.” Van leaned on me a little harder. “Did you hear Crests’ theater finally got a film player?”

I hadn’t. Or more accurately, most theaters did, but the way she said it, she meant that Crests had finally gotten one of the new film projectors made in the foundries in the Sandscar. Thanks to technological advancements, we had ways of making films again - not a lot of them, and they were slow going, but there were a few movies made in Arcadia, by Arcadian actors. 

“Are you asking me if I’d like to see a movie while I’m here?” I liked the idea.

“I am. They’re playing Trade in Virtues - that movie about the caravan companies that smuggled slaves out of Randaynia with the Condors’ help. Turned out, that operation was actually how I was rescued - though neither I nor your parents knew til years later. But the Fletcher’s caravan company was part of it. I don’t know, I just...kinda want to see the drama of how it was planned, how it was made. Apparently they actually got actors from the Reclamation to play a lot of the roles.”

I chuckled. “Sold. Don’t know how much I want to watch the Condors get their dicks sucked on camera for a few hours but that’s just interservice rivalry. It should be a good movie no matter what.” 

Van laughed. “Don’t start talking about interservice rivalry with a Caretaker, soldier boy. I know how often boys who used to be in our care wind up enlisting once they’re of age - especially if they didn’t have a lot of luck with permanent placement until they were pretty old.” 

I shrugged and made a “so-so” gesture. “Yeah. That’s not really on purpose though. Condors never shut up about how much more badass they are than the common troopers. Anyway.” I began rubbing her shoulders at around the same time she started rubbing mine. “Long day. Think you could do with a little relaxation. I would love to see a movie with you. And I wouldn’t mind seeing the kids, honestly. If I happen to.”

Van smiled. “Well, you’ll get the chance. I’m on duty all of tomorrow night. You can either come in and help in the kitchen - and you’ve talked enough about stuff you’ve come up with on mess duty often enough that I know you can do that - or you can stay here while I work.” 

I nodded. “I would love to help. But for right now, Van, it’s been a long hike to get here, can we please, just…” 

She gently stripped off her pants, sweater, shirt, and kept on her underclothes. “Yeah. It’s about time to turn in. Get in whatever you sleep in. I’ve got a really nice bed.” I slowly took off my own clothes, getting down to just my underwear, and slipped into bed next to her, wrapping my arms around her. 

“This okay?” I could feel her skin against mine - warm and cool at the same time, under the blankets. 

“Yeah. This is fine. This is...really nice, actually. You can come a little closer, you know.” I huddled a little closer. We’d been exchanging letters for a long time, and we’d seen each other a few times, but this was the first time we’d shared a bed. My heart was racing but I felt kind of peaceful - more scared that I’d do something to scare her than anything. She snuggled into me. “Yeah, like that. You always were good for making me feel safe. Hopefully I do the same for you.”

She did. She really did. I didn’t have to take care of Van, exactly. Not like I did with River, or my troops. We were on equal ground, taking care of each other in little ways. 

And it was good having someone I could talk to. Sure she felt the same way. She ran a hand through my hair a little. “I know it’s regulation but I miss when you had those cute little curls. It’s fine though. This looks good on you too.” I ran a hand through her hair too, enjoying the silky texture.

“I’d say the same but you’ve had the same hairstyle since you were a kid. Never changed it?”

“Your parents literally never fucked with my hair in any way, and I loved the way I wore it even back then, why would I change it?”

I laughed a bit and stopped as she whispered if it was okay to kiss me. I said, very softly, “Yes.”

We did, and while I wasn’t a stranger to the excitement of a kiss, Van’s was the first time I really felt anything new. A little flare of excitement down my back as we kissed. 

We didn’t stay awake long after that.

**Vanessa**

Waking up in Beckett’s arms was a uniquely amazing feeling. Exactly as nice as when we were kids and I needed someone to hold me so I asked him to come in and stay with me. Actually, no scorch that it was way better because I didn’t have a fucking collar and I was being held by a man who I knew loved me rather than just someone I was scared felt sorry for me.

But no matter how much I wanted to just stay in bed and revel in that feeling, I had work to do. I shook Beck awake and began getting dressed. “Come on. We’ve got work to do. You promised to help with this.” Beck grunted. 

“I want you to know that I haven’t gotten up this early since Basic and I have a new level of respect for caretakers.” He was moving though, which meant, I suppose, that the training of getting up when needed had stuck with him. He threw on his normal clothes and threw his jacket on. “So, I’m going to see where you work today, huh?” 

“Yep. And in the event that you ever want to show me a garrison…”

“I promise I will not.” He laughed a bit, and from his rueful expression I could tell that he didn’t really think most of the military bases were worth seeing. Though I wouldn’t have minded meeting the troops he worked with. And I had to admit, petty as it might be...Beck looked good in his officer’s uniform and I wanted to see him in his element. 

“I’d kinda like to see you, honestly. In one of them.” He blushed a bit. 

“So anyway. No sudden moves, no loud voice, no...literally any of the common triggers. And don’t hand either of them your cudgel. Actually, don’t bring it because they’ll try to steal it and I don’t know that you have a way of saying “no” to that that they will both listen to and that will not trigger them. They’re scared and hurting but they also make terrible decisions and I would like it to be harder for them. Okay?” 

Beck looked bemused, but nodded, taking his weapons belt back off, leaning the cudgel by the door again. He followed me - and I suddenly realized he was carrying something. “Beck, is that a Guard mess kit?”

“Yep. Fork, spoon, knife, little mixing bowl, small skillet, pot, salt, cup.”

“Why are you bringing a mess kit to a place with an actual kitchen?”

He blinked. “Because we didn’t have tea this morning, I hope.”

I couldn’t stop laughing at that reply. That was a legitimately excellent answer. He followed me through the door and Faiza stepped out as we stepped in. Mark and Tara were the only ones currently staying - Danny and Audrey had been taken to their new home and it seemed to be working out for them. Mark and Tara were still sleeping, apparently and Beck slipped into the kitchen when I showed him where it was. I got prepped for helping them study for school, putting on tea for myself and Beck. When it was time, I went over to Mark and Tara’s room and knocked on the door. The last few days, no one had cursed or woken hyperventilating, which meant that progress was being made. There was still a remarkable degree of quiet, and for a moment i got nervous. 

“I need you both to just say something to indicate to me you’re okay.” Both voices came through the door, sounding annoyed, and I smiled. “Alright, sorry. Breakfast is soon, you both need to get up.” 

They came out of their room and jumped when they saw Beck, who’d done a pretty good job with eggs and some boar bacon. Then it seemed to click for one of them. “This your Guardsman boytoy?”

“Man toy.” Beck managed not to put any sarcastic tone into that sentence, but it was enough to make me want to either laugh or slap him. Not helped when Tara chimed in. “Wait. Wait. I saw his picture. Mark. You almost joined the Guard inspired by the pinup of…”

I have never, in my entire career, before or since, wanted to scream curse words around children quite as hard as I did in that moment. Mostly because of how witheringly awkward it made the rest of the morning. 

Beck attempted to keep things going, chatting with whichever one I wasn’t helping study, but frankly both of them asking awkward questions about our sex life clearly intended to off-balance him was something he hadn’t gone in prepared for, and catching one of them clearly trying to palm a knife off him and being disappointed when they found out he’d left his weapons at home was not helping. I could see Beck becoming increasingly frustrated, but he was keeping his temper well. 

That was one of the hardest things in training for a Caretaker. You had to learn that many of the people we worked with didn’t trust, didn’t want to trust. Would push you, to see what you would do. Didn’t want to be loved by you - or thought they didn’t - and would actively make it as hard as possible. The fact that Beck was maintaining his composure as well as he was was impressive.

I kept up with the kids though, keeping them from getting too out of hand. Mark and Tara were laughing a bit by the end of the day - though Beck looked fucking exhausted, and I wasn’t far behind though I felt pretty good. They’d gotten through their homework and actually gotten ahead. They were both bright, it just looked like they needed stability - though their behavior with Beck was absolutely backsliding. Maybe a bit of lashing out that something new was entering their environment without permission, which meant that I’d be leaving him home the next day.

I mentioned as much to him - and with them expressly not in the room - and had Tara should, “No, it’s not that, seriously we just wanted to see what your boy was like. You talk about him so much with Faiza and Ben!”

I internally swore to Gaia that one way or another they’d learn to stop eavesdropping but that was actually good to know. “There’s better ways of learning than by screwing with people!”

“There really aren’t, and shouldn’t you know that?” 

Scorching teenagers, I really should have seen that coming. Beck was studiously trying not to laugh. Then he said something that made me want to strangle him.

“Guard training’s pretty extensive on how to deal with kids who are breaking rules without hurting them.” He managed to stop before hitting a point they were guaranteed to take as a challenge, possibly because I was glowering like I was trying to drill holes through his armor with my gaze.

“Do I have to explain why I’m annoyed?”

“No.”

“Good. You’re helping babysit tomorrow. And that. Will be it’s own punishment after the challenge you just gave them.”

Beck winced, but nodded. I liked it. I could tell that he was actually trying. He just sucked at my job about as much as I expected I’d suck at his. But as he smiled, earnest and ready, I couldn’t deny that I had definitely fallen for him.


	58. Connection

**River**

I had returned to Arborrea and was looking forward to meeting up with Tyler in the Capitol - I had some brief appearances to put on anyway, some singing to practice, all that. Reed had to return to the capitol as well - so we’d shared the road. It hadn’t been too bad on the way down, for the most part. “So that’s how you pitch a tent in this weather. I never came this far north when I was training with Ash.”

“So that’s the trick your Mentor uses to watch for ambush on the Roads. He must have learned it in the Guard, Pike never said anything about it.”

“Seriously, okay Ash might be an amazing swordsman but he didn’t teach you shit with archery, did he?” 

“Think he got too comfortable with Guard crossbows. Plus, his hands…” I was a bit defensive of Ash, though from how much better an archer Reed was than I was I could see he had a point.

“Here, let me show you…” He corrected my stance slightly, and showed me how to draw back from the shoulder and hold it - I’d had my back entirely wrong, and from the feel of the difference I could tell Ash had never properly transitioned from crossbow to compound bow. 

“Wait, where did you learn that trick?”

“For starting a fire with damp wood? When I was on the mission to the Bayou Confederacy.”

“Can you show me next time we make camp?”

“Sure.”

It wasn’t bad. Reed wasn’t a bad guy. We kept up sparring - honestly he beat me a few times by strength, as fast as I was, if my parries weren’t perfect he could swat me off-balance with the level of force he put behind blows and then exploit that to send me sprawling. It was a good way of keeping me honest - and different one than Ash had had. One I was adapting to - and from the way his technique was improving, my own speed was making him adapt in ways Pike’s technique hadn’t quite taught him either. 

Still, it wasn’t long before we arrived back at the capital, and took our leave from each other. I left that five week journey with a newfound respect for my former rival - he was a good guy, a good blade, and we’d taught each other a fair bit. I took a shower to clean off the gunk from the road, washing out my hair and drying it quickly, then towelling it off. I filed the report I was supposed to about the treaty violation. 

I knew where Tyler would be, and I wanted to surprise them - Reed and I had made excellent time and I wouldn’t have been expected until the next day. That, plus, when you have two people there’s a degree of allowance of speed that travelling alone doesn’t permit. You can go further and not worry as much about hidden campsites when one of you can keep watch. 

I kept in my Inquisition gear though, Tyler had said they wanted me to try something kinky with them sometime and I was still on call for duty. Tyler was working on a terminal in the Archives - doubtless preparing to send an article to their editor, pounding away at the keyboard on a restored terminal. Their hair had been allowed to grow out slightly, this time styled up in a series of spikes that would have been menacing if not for their sky blue color, the leather jacket around their shoulders apparently having been dyed a garish purple with the ripped denim of their...why did they have a denim skirt?! 

I crept up behind them, careful not to be noticed, flicking an icy glare I had taken from Ash at anyone who looked like they were about to stand up and say anything about the Inquisition. I got close enough to read the first several lines of the article. Inquisition training had taught me to move stealthily, to breathe silently even when nervous. I was close and they had no idea. 

Arcadian Film Industry Booming!

That’s right, everyone. In recent months, due to both efforts of a heroic salvage team, some degree of hard work by the Foreign Affairs Stewardship working with the Atzlan Republic for mutual salvage rights to a certain city in the bowels of the Sandscar, we have recovered the capacity to make genuine film again - given the chemical components common in film that can be easily found in a number of the artifices of the old world, ones we have little to no use for at that, it was deemed wise to allow yet another old world entertainment to return, this time in ways that could co-exist with Gaia! The Arcata Theater Troupe is allowing films to be shown at many of their locations, and while much of the filmography currently on offer is primarily historical in nature, many of those in the infant industry say they see hope for future expansion.

Then I heard them mutter, “Scorching fluff pieces. Yeah, it’s good, it’s good news, but come on, I miss the real shit.” 

“Tyler.” 

They jumped skyward and wheeled around. “River! Poisoned Sky you scared me.” They hugged me hard. “You weren’t supposed to get back til tomorrow, or I’d have dressed to shock and impress a little more. I mean, this isn’t bad, but it’s a far cry from…”

I kissed them. “Been a long road. I just wanted to see you.”

“I am so happy you did. Just finished a fairly boring bit. Could use a bit of entertainment.” They smiled, dazzlingly, their autumn-brown skin contrasting gorgeously with their white teeth and hazel-gold eyes. “I hear some interesting things about the deals we worked out with Aztlan.”

“I had an interesting conversation with someone being an idiot about the deal we already had with the Spokane.” 

“Oh that’s what brought you all the way to Frostreach. So, by the way, Riv, mind telling me something? I’m not jealous, I promise. I just hear from my contacts in Frostreach that you actually spent a lot of time with another Inquisition Journeyer. That true?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Reed. Pike’s apprentice. Not a bad guy. Think he wants to be friends, honestly. Decent wilderness hand, good investigator, great swordsma-” I paused as I saw Tyler’s face light up with that particular innuendo.

“NOT LIKE THAT.”

“Oh I wasn’t worried I just needed you to know I could have gone there if I wanted. Gotta stop leaving yourself open to jokes like that with me. Come on. So, you and Reed are friends, never would have seen that coming. Can I meet him sometime? I’d kinda like to get more angles into the Inquisition.”

I suddenly felt nervous. “You said he was cute. And that…” I was scared. I had originally suspected that they were only interested in me because I was unique and fun and would probably leave if they got another Inquisition source. I’d mostly dealt with that, but...

“River.” Tyler suddenly got very serious. “I’m not going to leave you for Reed. But your Mentor does not know how to talk to me in any way and it would be helpful, when I start publishing more stories on the Inquisition, to have multiple sources, some of whom, at least on paper, would not be expected to agree. Okay?” They leaned in and took my hand.

“Okay then.”

“Plus, I want to meet some of your work friends and at some point I need you to meet mine.”

I smiled. “I’d like that.”

Tyler had no intention of having me meet their work friends today though. Instead, they brought me back to their place, looking vaguely excited. I looked around as Tyler stripped off their clothes and then got slightly nervous when I saw the cuffs - not good cuffs, just...fairly obviously cheap ones made of some salvage velcro, which made me feel better. But still. “River Pamela, Journeyer of the Druidic Circle of Inquisition, I have been a bit heretical of late and I want to repent.”

Tyler said it with utter confidence and I couldn’t help it. They looked so horny that I just burst out laughing. It was such a hilarious statement. Why did they think that was how I wanted to start trying to be kinky with them? Set aside that…

“Tyler. This is...amazing. I appreciate that we’ve wanted to try kinky stuff and you wanted to find a way of making it comfortable, but...this...this is hilarious.” I was shaking from laughing so hard.

**Tyler**

I had led River back to my room, excitedly, to try something I’d been excited to for a while. When I started getting going, though, she laughed. I flushed with embarrassment. I had really tried and I thought she’d like the idea. I knew kink wasn’t something she was super...on with and I wanted to excite her. River drew me back up and gave me a hug. 

“Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just...didn’t expect that. I honestly have no idea how to roleplay an Inquisitor spanking a heretic journalist, either. Like the actual penance is...nothing like this. I have no idea how to make it…”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “I know. I just...wait, you think it has to be realistic? Look, Riv. It’s just supposed to be hot. What sounds good to you?” Internally, I was frustrated. I had done some digging. River didn’t like collars but wouldn’t necessarily have a problem with cuffs cuffs, and she filled out the Inquisition armor and travel gear quite well. She looked amazing - seriously, imagine a travel-tanned girl with a slightly crooked smile, blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair in a high ponytail that gave her a look of businesslike severity, high cheekbones, in black leather armor, black riding pants, black boots, a green and black cloak, a sword, knife and bow slung to her, carrying a pack of the essentials, with a heavy green badge hanging from her neck that said she was allowed to tie you up at will if she had reason to believe you were a heretic. Let’s say that because of previous experience with this girl, you knew she was buff under the armor, and that she was extremely cuddly. Let us also say she was one of the few people who never questioned why you refused to take your binder off when you two got to bed together.

Now tell me that after all that, you don’t want this girl to tie you up and bend you over. Fuck me. Literally. 

“Okay. Maybe...Tyler, what is the point of kink?”

“Usually exploring scary things in safe ways. Things you’re afraid of, things you think might excite you if you got to be in charge. I don’t know.”

“Okay. Then…” She abruptly picked me up - damn she was strong - by the neck and slammed me down onto the bed, kissing me. “Let’s give it a shot, you little troublemaker.”

Now, remember earlier in this record when I said “I report my truth?” Fuck you, you don’t get the details of what happened next. You just get to know it was amazing. I loved everything River tried - and she seemed to enjoy it too. I had to make suggestions a few times, but she made it work. She was playing with my hair as we lay together, just holding each other after.

“I missed you, Tyler.”

“Missed you too, River. I love you. Love this. Being with someone where I don’t have to put on the act. I mean, sure, I am here to have a good time, but...It’s nice to admit I want a bit more than that, you know?”

River smiled as I swirled my fingers through her hair. “Yeah. I understand. Next time you can take charge if you want. But...I know what you mean. With everyone else I have to be the spectacular exception, the first one that proves that ex-Randaynians can be Inquisitors. And sure, I guess the first waves of Inquisitors from Bay Hills, Frostreach, Wildrun, Crests, all that, had to go through something similar so you’d think the precedent would be easier, but…”

“Nah. None of those places were hostile to Arcadia prior to annexation, and most of them actually agreed to annexation by treaty without coercion - just wanted to pool resources.” She nodded. 

“So I have to always be perfect with everyone but my parents, with Ash, with you. And with you, mistakes are something we learn from together rather than something I know will be forgiven or something that will just be corrected and moved on from. I get to be my truest self around you, Ty. And I love it.” 

I felt a little thrill go down my spine at those words. “Thanks, River. Love you too. Stay with me tonight. Don’t go back to the Sanctum. Winter’s almost over but it’s still cold.”

I felt her turn over and wrap her arms around me. “You got it, sweetie.”


	59. Solemn Decisions

**Ash**

The Grove of Farewells - any Grove of Farewells - is a depressing place. Oh, just about any proper Arcadian funeral involves having native plants planted over the grave, but a Grove of Farewells is a special one. Essentially a cemetery and orchard in one. The terminally ill who are giving up their fight and choose a quiet end to their suffering with all their affairs in order. Most psychologists in Arcadia have done rotations of checkups here - make sure those presenting themselves are of sound mind and have truly made the decision, are truly terminal. 

If they are, a Druid - usually of Faith, sometimes of Inquisition, will present them with a small cup - Last Lullaby. A blend of nightshade and poppy. A fade out of consciousness, a hemorrhage of the brain. An end. More humane than leaving the dying to suffer when they’ve done what they needed. You can arrange to have your family and loved ones beside you when you’ve thrown down the cup. A Druid is on hand to carry out last rites - and on hand to ensure you’re buried with a tree to mark your final resting place. 

The Groves of Farewell are solemn places, ones for reflections on the brief nature of life, the hope of rebirth in Gaia, the observance that the earth absorbs all things - and grows back from them. As do we. But it is also a place of sorrow, of families saying farewell. It is rare for an Inquisitor to be assigned to such a place, though all Druids must do one rotation through such places as a form of understanding the dignity of life, the right of each person to choose their ideal of what quality made it worth living for themselves. 

Now, I murmured the prayer of last rites as a man - old one, sick. He had told us that he’d forgotten the name of his child that day - and had sworn himself an oath long ago that not recognizing his family would make it time to come here. I handed him the cup and held his hand tightly. They were around him, too. I whispered a final blessing as they gathered around him. “Go to Gaia now, sir. You’ve done for them what they needed. You’ve done as well as anyone could.” He threw back the cup, and nodded. I bowed deeply, and strode away. There were little bells - little silver ones - given to the families of those who came here for death with dignity. When the man died, the bells would be held up to his mouth and nose to ensure the breathing had stopped - then rung when it was time to summon me to set him in the grave and plant the tree. In this moment, it was time to leave them to their grief. I stepped away. 

I shuddered, a little. Pike had once been disciplined for suggesting I come here after the war - at a moment when I’d beaten him and humiliated him quite thoroughly, but when I was in a moment when I was low enough to consider it. In retrospect, that was the moment our rivalry and feud had turned into hate. The bell rang and came over. Then I began the burial, my bad hand and hip cramping a little as I began putting the dirt over the body, gently placing the seeds over his chest. I placed the dirt carefully over the body, and then poured the water over the grave and went to meditate, whispering prayers as I did so.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it though. Trying to calm down. I was finally starting to move on the issues with Belladonna - getting more support through Violet and even through some of the Communion Circle, a lot of the native tribes who’d agreed to annexation, and more than a few of the Reclaimer sect were quietly rumbling against her. But the Sanctum establishment - Pike and I had almost come to blows several times, and as much as I was hearing that River and Reed were becoming friends, Pike and I were getting more and more deadly in our hatred for each other. 

Someone came to fetch me, told me my weeklong rotation here was over - Pike and I had both been sentenced to one after Heather had told Belladonna about our near-duels. 

I was walking out and looked around - Bay Hills was warm, at least. Spring came sooner here, so it wasn’t as hard on old wounds. I walked out, quietly mourning the people whose deaths I’d been party too. It wasn’t as bad with the elderly - but a teenager with cancer and no hope of surviving it, who’d already done everything they could, fought as hard as they could, but was simply dying and just wanted to die surrounded by friends and loved ones and their sweetheart before the pain stripped everything away from them? I never wanted to serve Last Lullaby to one of those again.

I still looked at the rows of trees waving gently in the breeze, and thought about the three more that would be doing so in ten years from the time I’d been here. There were choices ahead of me and behind.

Among them, it was time to acknowledge: I was getting older. The wounds I’d suffered in the Crusade weren’t going away - and were only slowing me down worse as time went on. Pike and his bastard sword were waiting for me at the end of the road I was walking with Belladonna, and in reality, absent direct intervention from Gaia herself, by the time I was ready to make that last move, he was likely to do the kind of damage to me that would bring me here. 

What were my great passions? Seeing Gaia’s earth, which would be harder if I became fully crippled. Swordplay, though I was ashamed to admit how much I loved the mortal art of the blade, it was genuinely something I loved studying, not just something I was excellent at, and if I got any more maimed, the odds of me being able to do it well - or at all - were limited. After a fight with Pike, for real - I might well have to come here. Teaching, I supposed, but most of what I could teach was best taught by doing. I didn’t know. I stood up and shook myself. Focus, Ash. You have a path ahead of you. The Inquisition needs to be fixed, and Pike and Belladonna are your obstacles. You can hold your shit together just a little longer. 

River can carry this forward. 

I focused again. I slowly walked away from the Grove of Farewells and began approaching the Sanctum. I needed to start practicing again. And I wanted to reflect on the offer I’d gotten - the one from Violet, about a meeting with Oakheart.

I’d been given the chance to air some of the Inquisition’s dirty laundry with the most important of the Archdruids - and I was nervous. The Inquisition wouldn’t take kindly to me going public with that - might guarantee that Pike pursued River. But at the same time, heavy support from outside the Inquisition and from within the Circles would help immensely. I went through a series of fast forms with saber, and then went through a series of slower ones - then began combinations, whittling between and through through the scarecrows and pell posts to try to get back into form. I was feeling a little better - but still going a little slower than I wanted. I went through the sequence again, and carefully threw my holdout knife and managed to lodge it into the chest of another scarecrow as part of my routine.

I was breathing hard, and started feeling better - slower or not, I was still deadly. I could still do this. I picked up the papers I had on the Inquisition, and bathed myself of the sweat from the exercise. Then I got ready to go to talk to Oakheart. Decisions had to be made - and I needed her help.


End file.
